


Lessons in Love

by fangirlandiknowit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, and viktor the proud skater dad, featuring yurio as yuuri's number one fan, kinda slow burn, who may or may not be a former professional ballet dancer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 131,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlandiknowit/pseuds/fangirlandiknowit
Summary: All Viktor wants is for his son to be happy - and if that means spending countless hours at the ice rink, a million more in the ballet studio, and devotedly cheering for Katsuki Yuuri at every competition he enters, then that is precisely what he'll do.He just didn't expect to become a fan, too.(He didn't expect to fall in love.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had cravings for a single dad au, and then I had cravings for Viktor dancing ballet, and then I had cravings for Yuuri being slightly more successful than in canon but still downplaying himself. Add some pining to that, and I guess this is the result!
> 
> Ages are obviously different than in canon, but the timeskips should be easy to follow. 
> 
> The first chapter is G-rated, just so you know! 
> 
> I sincerely hope you like it!!
> 
> (Also, if you like me love yoi AMVs, the title of this story is inspired by one called All day/All night by RLOrbiter. Seriously it's good. I might have listened to the song on repeat while writing this haha...)

“Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri’s mind blanks out. He’s in a small park behind a skating rink larger than any he’s ever visited, wondering how he ended up there in the first place.

And now, a foreigner is approaching him.

Maybe if he closes his eyes and pretends he’s a statue, the man will ignore him.

“You _are_ the figure skater Yuuri Katsuki, right?”

The man smiles at him when Yuuri peeks through his lashes, tall and pale and oh god, he’s _gorgeous_.

Yuuri is nineteen, by some miracle debuting internationally at the Four Continents (he placed third at Nationals, how even), does _not_ know how to deal with having fans, and now this beautiful foreigner is trying to talk to him when all Yuuri wants to do is wallow in shaky nerves alone.

 _Maybe don’t pick a public spot next time,_ he berates himself.

“Y-yes,” he forces out, stumbling over even such simple English.

“Fantastic!” The man beams at him, his mouth a pretty heart-shaped phenomenon that Yuuri can’t look at for longer than the second it takes for his heart rate to triple. “My son is a huge fan of yours! His name’s Yuri too, so he was really happy when he found out you were competing! Oh, let me show you a picture!”

Blinking in surprise, Yuuri dutifully looks at the pictures on the phone screen, trying (and failing) not to notice how close the man is. Has he never heard of personal space? Maybe it’s a European thing (is he European? Yuuri is too afraid to ask but the accent hints at it).

The child is beautiful too, of course.

“He’s seven, so he hasn’t really started competing yet, but it’s his dream to win the Olympics!” The man laughs fondly, his eyes sparkling as he continues to talk about his son. “He’s so determined, my Yuri. Watched all the competitors and already decided that you’ll win!”

“ _Me_?” Yuuri can’t help the shocked question, immediately pressing his hands over his mouth in embarrassment.

“Oh, you know how kids are. He even made a sign so he can cheer for you! But it’s your debut, right? Good luck!”

While Yuuri isn’t the most proficient in English, a year spent in Detroit convinces him he isn’t misunderstanding things. There really is a beautiful man with a beautiful son hell bent on cheering for him – he thinks he feels a little faint.

“I almost forgot!” The man claps his hands together, excitement shining on his face. “We noticed you didn’t have a proper napkin holder when you competed in Japan, and we were going to throw it to you on the ice after your short program, but if you don’t mind?”

Yuuri can only stare dumbly as the man (god, Yuuri wants to know his name so badly now) rummages through a messenger bag before producing a fluffy toy poodle.

“You don’t have to use it or anything, but Yuri would be so happy if you’d accept it! It looks just like our dog Makkachin, and he always brings good luck so I hope this one will do the same for you!”

Almost trembling, Yuuri slowly reaches out to hold the fluffy thing in his hands. There’s a tissue box inside already, which is handy because he might just start crying. For days he’s been thinking that he doesn’t belong here, that he was picked on a fluke and took someone else’s rightful spot. Even though he’s been working hard for this, has moved abroad and found a real coach and didn’t see his family for months, Yuuri couldn’t quite accept that he deserved this.

“Thank you,” he breathes, flushing fire truck red when he receives a bright smile again.

“We’ll cheer for you, so do your best out there!”                                                                                  

 He wants to say something more, but the man winks at him and Yuuri _dies_. Is he a celebrity? He should be, with that presence and face. When the man leaves, Yuuri’s throat clogs up and he clutches the poodle to his chest, sure he made a terrible impression. And yet, something about the carefree and casual way the man hoists his bag higher up his shoulder gives Yuuri the courage needed to finally ask.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

Pausing, the man turns to him with eyes wide in surprise. Then they soften in a smile, and Yuuri has to clutch the poodle a little tighter.

“Oh, it’s Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov. Nice to meet you!”

  _Viktor_ , Yuuri thinks in awe, waving in response to the man’s – Viktor’s – raised hand. He watches him go, waits until he’s disappeared behind a corner. Glancing down at Makkachin, Yuuri heaves a sigh and feels some of the tension leave his body. There is a least one person here who wants to see him skate, someone who even bought him a gift in advance. Maybe he can actually do this?

In the end he finishes in the lower half of the scoreboard, messing up half of his jumps, but it’s not bad for a debut according to his coach. Yuuri isn’t sure he agrees, but when he leaves the rink after watching the price ceremony he spots two familiar faces through the crowd of fans waiting for the winners. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget Viktor’s face, to be honest, but little Yuri is perched on his shoulders, blond hair tucked into the hood of a leopard print onesie.

The child waves, Yuuri’s heart positively melting. He holds up Makkachin, smiles as wide as he can, unable to stop for a chat in order to make it to his flight. His coach Celestino is already pulling ahead, but Yuuri lingers for a moment longer. Both son and dad give him thumbs up, and Yuuri thinks to himself, _so this is what it’s like to have fans?_

Cheeks warm, Yuuri heads for Detroit with newfound determination.

♡♡♡

“Ready, Yurochka? Grandpa will be so happy when he sees you can do such a cool spin already!”

Viktor leans his elbows on the side of the rink, steadying his phone as Yuri makes himself ready. At nine, Yuri is more hardworking than ever. Skating classes just aren’t enough – he insists that Viktor takes him for extra practice as often as he can. While his coach, a nice woman in her mid-forties who doesn’t mind that Viktor tags along every time, has forbidden him from practicing any types of jumps on his own, Yuri has spent most of the time lately working on this spin.

Yuri nods at him, and Viktor presses the recording button. The kid starts by going backwards in a half circle, using backwards crossovers to gain a bit of speed before stepping into the spin on his left foot. His right leg stretches out at first, then bends as he goes faster, arms folded against his chest. Viktor may not be a skater himself, but he’s danced enough in his life to know that his little Yurochka has talent.

“Perfect!” he shouts, clapping his hands as Yuri glides along the ice again. “Your hard work’s been paying off, Papa is so proud!”

“Ugh, you’re so embarrassing,” Yuri hisses as he skates past, but can’t entirely hide the pleased look on his face.

“Why don’t you cool down a bit and then we’ll go home,” he replies, ignoring the comment.

He probably spoils him because when Yuri turns his puppy eyes on him, he’s forced to agree to another ten minutes. It’s hard not to, when figure skating is the one thing in the world that seems to make him truly happy.

“I’m not tired yet,” Yuri whines when he finally forces him off the ice, pouting as Viktor unlaces his skates.

“You promised to watch that movie with me, remember? Besides, you have school tomorrow.”

“I want to quit school and skate every day like Yuuri!”

Ruffling the boy’s hair, Viktor clicks his tongue at him.

“Yuuri goes to school in America, you know. And last time he told you to study hard, didn’t he?”

Yuri mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like a curse, but Viktor can’t find it in him to get mad. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that it’s already been five years since both of their lives were turned upside down, with Yuri’s mother practically dumping him on Viktor’s doorstep. He knows he only has himself to blame – caring more about himself and his career than his child. Yuri had arrived like a belated birthday present when Viktor was nineteen, an inconvenient surprise. But he had money, and figured that would be enough to continue his life like nothing had happened. She was only a passing fling after all, another dancer from the same city. He didn’t have time to contemplate being a father, not with all the practice, shows, competitions, travelling…

It was like a bucket of cold water to the head when she declared that she was done being a mom. While Viktor doesn’t understand in hindsight how anyone could leave Yuri (who was always a sweet child, better than Viktor deserved) he does understand her wish to ruin his dream career like he had ruined hers. The first few weeks had been hell, with Viktor trying to figure out his life from then on and the four-year-old Yuri understandably inconsolable.

He’ll never stop being grateful to figure skating for catching Yuri’s eyes, giving him something to focus on. It acted like a bridge between the two of them, and with the help of Yuri’s maternal grandfather, Viktor slowly managed to make up for his past mistakes. And yes, maybe Viktor is overdoing it – bringing Yuri to international events, making sure he got a good coach early on, spending large amounts of time and money – but as long as Yuri is happy he’ll continue.

It helps that he has the Japanese Yuuri to look up to as well. The man is so sweet and patient, always taking time out of his schedule to talk to them at events. There’s a big poster of him in their living room, and several more in Yuri’s. Viktor is not ashamed to admit that his phone background is a picture of the three of them, taken shortly before Yuri’s last birthday.

(He may or may not find Yuuri beautiful, captivating, and a whole bunch of other adjectives. It doesn’t matter. He’s only a fan, an overly enthusiastic skater dad. He should feel lucky Yuuri even knows his name.)

“Oh, Yuuri updated.”

They’re in the car, Yuri scrolling through Viktor’s instagram feed. He’s too young to have his own, so Viktor made one just for figure skating. He didn’t expect Yuuri to follow it – didn’t expect followers at all, but he supposes Yuri is just that adorable – but the pure awe on Yuri’s face whenever his idol likes a post makes Viktor lowkey want to marry him.

“What does it say?”

Yuri frowns, mouthing through the words in English. Viktor’s been teaching him so that he can talk to Yuuri, but reading is still a bit of a struggle for him.

“I think he has a new rink mate, but I don’t know how to say his name.”

“We can check when we get home,” Viktor promises, smiling as Yuri continues to scroll. The frown is still there though, and Viktor’s smile widens into a grin. “Jealous?”

“No!” Yuri protests, crossing his arms. “ Because Yuuri’s going to be my coach.”

Viktor blinks, stopping the car at a red light.

“Your coach?”

A violent blush blooms on Yuri’s face, and Viktor wishes he could take a picture. Of course, Yuri is always cute, but sometimes it’s just heart-clenching.

“When I’m older,” his son mumbles, and Viktor is forced to tear his eyes away as the light turns green. “I don’t want him to stop competing.”

“Mm,” Viktor hums, thinking of the plane tickets he’d booked as soon as Yuuri’s assignments for the Grand Prix had been revealed. “I don’t want him to stop, either.”

♡♡♡

“What are you watching?”

Yuuri startles, computer falling off his lap as Phichit jumps onto the bed next to him.

“Oh it’s nothing, really, I was just-“

“Ballet? Are you looking for inspiration?”

“Kind of, I mean I just stumbled over the video so I-“

“Yuuri! Is that him? The hot dad you talk to at every event? It is, isn’t it?”

“ _Please_ ,” Yuuri begs, trying to take his computer back from Phichit’s clutches. “Please don’t call him that.”

“So it _is_ him,” Phichit muses, holding the computer in a death grip as he stares at the video. “You never told me he’s a ballet dancer!”

“He’s not, I mean he _was_ , but this video is years old.”

Cheeks burning with shame, Yuuri squirms as Phichit lets out a low whistle. Yuuri had found out rather early on that Viktor used to be a professional dancer, and sometimes when he’s feeling a bit down he watches old videos of him. There’s quite a few, since he seems to have been popular. And successful, of course.  

“Wow Yuuri, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“We’re not-! I didn’t-! _Phichit_!”

Phichit laughs, teasingly bumping his shoulder.

“I’m just messing with you. How old is he, anyway?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Yuuri.” Phichit’s look is stern, and Yuuri blushes at being caught with the lie.

“Fine, he’s twenty-nine. His son turned ten a couple months ago.”

Phichit whistles again, and finally returns the computer.

“So it’s just an eight year difference, huh? Still, you could do better. I mean, a ten-year-old kid? You’d be a stepmom.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the kid,” Yuuri protests, only realizing what the protest makes it look like when Phichit’s grin turns triumphant. “I didn’t mean it like that! And I’m not looking for a relationship, anyway.”

“True,” Phichit sighs theatrically, throwing himself down on Yuuri’s bed. “You don’t even notice when people flirt with you, it’s depressing. You could get so much action if you wanted to!”

The glare Yuuri sends him is ignored.

“ _Unless_ , you’re saving yourself for a hot Russian dad who-“

Yuuri clamps his hands over Phichit’s mouth. Sure, he loves his friend, but he can’t just sit there and do nothing as he spews _lies_ and _slander_.

Never mind that Yuuri has thought about it.

Never mind that Yuuri follows Viktor religiously on instagram, showcasing true restraint by not liking and commenting on every post.

Never mind that he _also_ follows Yuri’s account, meaning that he technically _doesn’t_ need to follow Viktor’s anymore.

“Ooh, I’m right, aren’t I?”

Phichit has somehow managed to remove Yuuri’s hands, face all smug as he pokes him in the side.

“No,” Yuuri denies stubbornly. “I just really appreciate his support, and watching him dance is helping inspire me for next season’s programs.”

Even so, Phichit gives him a knowing look.

“If you say so, Yuuri. So does that mean you’re free on Friday night? You barely ever leave the house if it’s not for practice, you don’t even need to physically go to school since you’re doing long distance studies! As your best friend I just can’t forgive myself for letting you live a lonely bachelor’s life!”

“I’m twenty-one, Phichit, I don’t _need_ a relationship.”

“But you could get _laid_ ,” Phichit whispers conspiratorially, eyebrows furiously wiggling at him. “I’m the best wingman in the world!”

“I don’t need a wingman,” Yuuri sighs, but he knows it’s a hopeless case.

It would have been easier if Viktor wasn’t single. It would have been _much_ easier if he didn’t make Yuuri feel like a flustered teenager every time they met, with his handsome looks and excited smiles and all the walking through rooms like he owns them.

They talk, sometimes. Just short messages, not even proper conversations, but it’s enough to keep Yuuri from ever fully pushing him out of his head. A week before the Olympics, Viktor sent him a video of himself and Yuri dancing Yuuri’s short program together, wishing him good luck. If he had it bad before, he was at least able to deny it to himself.

Now, he can at least deny it to Phichit.

“Of course, I don’t know if I can promise any hot dads since it’ll mostly be college boys, but-“

“Phichit! You’re not even old enough to drink in the US!”

“So you don’t deny it?” Phichit looks way too happy and Yuuri buries his face in his hands, not even caring that his glasses press uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose. “You should ask him out next time you meet. I’ll even babysit for you!”

“No thank you.”

“And besides,” Phichit adds, “we can just head over to Canada to drink!”

All Yuuri does is groan.

♡♡♡

“There he is, dad! See?”

Viktor follows Yuri’s pointer finger, patting his head when it is indeed Yuuri entering the airport lobby.

“Let’s keep it short, okay? He’s probably tired after his flight.”

Yuri nods sagely, but tugs impatiently at his hand. They’re noticed quickly, almost as if Yuuri’s been expecting them (and maybe that’s not so strange, considering he’s in Moscow for the Rostelecom Cup). He smiles when they reach him, pulling off his face mask.

“Viktor, Yuri, it’s been a while.”

“It’s great to see you again, Yuuri~”

When Yuuri blushes at his words, eyes darting to the floor before shyly meeting his again, Viktor can’t help how his heart skips a beat. Oh, no. He’d almost managed to forget the impact Yuuri has on him during the off-season months, but of course half a year of waiting has only managed to make Yuuri even prettier.

“Yuuri! I can do sit spins now, and lots of jumps!”

For a moment, Viktor almost forgot his son was there with them. Yuuri turns his attention towards Yuri, smiling encouragingly.

“That’s great! I couldn’t do sit spins until I was twelve!”

“Really?!”

Yuri’s eyes go big in wonder, and Viktor can tell he’ll be hearing a repeat of this for weeks to come.

“It’s true. You must have trained super hard!”

“Almost every day!”

For a few minutes Yuri’s mouth is an unstoppable force, informing Yuuri of precisely everything he’s been doing the past months. Viktor sends him an apologetic smile, but Yuuri doesn’t look bothered at all. He ooh’s and aah’s in all the right places, grinning cheekily at Viktor when he’s told the story of how he attempted (and failed at) ice skating.

“I only fell once,” he mutters, and Yuuri lets out a snort of laughter.

It does things to Viktor’s stomach. Things past a line he shouldn’t cross.

(He really wants to cross it.)

“And he had to sit on a soft pillow for a week!”

The only reason Viktor forgives Yuri is because he looks positively _ecstatic_ retelling the story to Yuuri, mindless of his father’s embarrassment. At least Viktor can be proud of how quickly he’s picked up English, no longer nervous to speak with Yuuri in another language.

“I hope you were extra nice to him that week,” Yuuri says, but of course his son shakes his head with a suspicious amount of pride.

“No way! It’s his own fault for trying to show off when he can’t even skate!”

Viktor huffs, but Yuuri laughs again so what’s a little embarrassment if he gets to see him laugh with his son?

(He might be in deeper than he thought.)

“I think we’ve kept Yuuri long enough, Yura,” he says instead, noticing Yuuri’s coach waiting from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t mind,” Yuuri says, sweeter than the sweetest of angels. “But I think my coach is getting a little impatient, though.”

“Oh, okay.” Yuri looks disappointed, biting at his lower lip.

“You’ll come tell me good luck before the short program, right?”

It’s like flicking a switch, Yuri lighting up instantly.

“Yes! I made you a super huge sign!”

“R-really? That’s very nice.” Yuuri looks flustered for a moment, glancing over at his coach before kneeling down and opening his hand luggage. “I, um, I brought something for you.”

“For me?” Yuri is gaping so wide that Viktor has to reach over and close his mouth with a finger under his chin.

“I visited Thailand with my friend during summer, and I know you like tigers so when I saw this I just had to buy it… It’s not much, but thank you very much for supporting me!”

Yuuri holds out a beautifully painted ceramic tiger, and Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever pulled his phone as fast from his pocket.

“Wow,” Yuri whispers, looking like a dream just came true. “It’s so cool!”

“And what do we say to Yuuri, Yurochka?”

It’s a testament to how happy Yuri is that he doesn’t even snap at Viktor.

“Thank you, Yuuri.”

Oh, yes, this photo is definitely going into Viktor’s ‘Best Expressions of Yurochka’ album.

“What about me, Yuuri? Don’t I get anything?”

He’s teasing, but Yuuri blushes a fantastic red and fumbles through his bag again. When he stretches his hand up at Viktor his heart almost stops.

“I was only joking,” he laughs nervously, because if Yuuri actually got him something he might just confess his love on the spot.

“No, I got it for you,” Yuuri mumbles, dropping the small package in Viktor’s hand. “I felt weird only buying something for Yuri…”

“Open it, dad!”

Inside is a bottle of massage oil, and Yuuri’s face seems to literally catch fire.

“My friend Phichit recommended it, I thought since you spend so much time at the ice rink just watching you might get cold and sore, and well…” he trails off, looking anywhere but Viktor, and he has to wonder what exactly is going through Yuuri’s mind to make him so embarrassed.

“My present is much better,” Yuri proclaims, turning his nose up at the small bottle.

“Well, it’s a good thing we both got things we enjoy then!” Viktor says with a wink, almost choking as he realizes the innuendo slipping past his traitorous lips.

“You only like it because you’re old and get back pains,” Yuri taunts, and just like that Viktor is saved.

“Ah, haha, I suppose you’re right,” he forces out, clearing his throat and looking at Yuuri who seems ready to melt. “The charm of old age.”

“You’re barely thirty,” Yuuri protests mildly, pushing some hair out of his face and glancing up at Viktor.

(There he goes again, sending Viktor’s heart into overdrive.)

“Yuuri~ You’re so kind to me! Not like this little brat!”

“I’m not a brat, you’re just old!”

“Yurochka, you’re making Papa cry.”

Yuri rolls his eyes, and Viktor wonders what he did to make his son enter his teenage rebellious state at age ten and a half.

“Ah, looks like I have to go,” Yuuri says, and Viktor feels his heart sink a little lower than is probably healthy.

“See you soon, Yuuri!”

Yuuri smiles at them, knocking his fist against Yuri’s before hurrying over to his coach. Viktor watches him go, trying not to think about his body’s reactions to seeing the skater again. He doesn’t walk with nearly the confidence he should have, being as amazing as he is. In fact, his posture slumps when his coach tells him off for lingering too long, and the ballet teacher in Viktor wants to yell at him to straighten up.

But he doesn’t, turning to his son instead.

“We have about an hour before Yakov and the others arrive, want to have lunch? We’ll have dinner with grandpa early, so we probably shouldn’t eat too much.”

Yuri nods, clutching his gifted tiger against his chest.

Oh, if only Yuuri knew the impact he holds on their little family!

(But they are only fans, and Yuuri is much too kind already.)

(Viktor certainly never cared about his fans on a personal level.)

♡♡♡

Yuuri does well in the Grand Prix. He does well, but – he feels unsatisfied. Like there’s something missing from his routines, from his life.

Ballet is as close as he gets to find it.

He dances Viktor’s performances, nowhere near as perfect, nowhere near as graceful, but he dances until his body aches. There’s Worlds to prepare for, and he needs to polish his programs, but maybe Phichit is right. Maybe he needs to go out more, see something else. It’s the end of his fourth year in Detroit, at what is most likely the height of his skating career, and his social life pretty much consists of watching movies with Phichit and having coffee with the other skaters after practice.

He tries going out more.

It doesn’t help.

The skating season ends with decent results and the thought that once he retires from skating, he won’t have a reason to see Viktor and Yuri again.

♡♡♡

“Yakov.”

Viktor tries being polite first, but the coach seems fully intent on ignoring him in order to focus on Georgi’s skating instead.

“Yaaakoooov.”

“Vitya.”

“Why won’t you train Yuri?”

Yakov sighs, pushing his hat further down his forehead as if it would shield him from Viktor’s insistence.

“Because he’s eleven years old, we’ve been through this already.”

“But his current coach won’t let him do anything more difficult than he can already do, he’s so _frustrated.”_

“So do something else with him, go have fun, he doesn’t need to train with professional skaters at his age.”

“ _I_ trained with professionals at his age,” Viktor protests, and Yakov finally spares him a look.

“Vitya, don’t tell me you’re taking a leaf out of your parents’ book all of a sudden. You’re doing great with Yuri, but just because you want the best for him it doesn’t mean he has to be _trained_ by the best right now.”

“So modest, Yakov,” Viktor mumbles, ignoring the first part and leaning against the side of the rink with a pout. “And here I train all your skaters because Lilia is too busy, and you won’t even teach Yurochka…”

“Take a break, Vitya. There’s more to life than figure skating, you know. And come over for dinner.”

“Oh, so you two are talking again?”

Viktor smiles innocently when Yakov glares at him, deciding his mission has failed for the time being and making his retreat soon after. He picks up Yuri from school, the kid looking sullen and barely replying to questions.

“Ready for practice?” he tries, mustering up as much cheer as he can.

“What’s the point, we’re just doing the same things over and over again. I hate being eleven.”

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Viktor racks his brain for something that could make Yuri feel inspired again. Ever since Yuuri’s season ended and Yuri’s teacher told him he couldn’t join the older kids’ practices instead (though to be fair, he was already practicing with twelve-year-olds), he’d entered some kind of slump.

“Maybe we should focus on dancing for a while,” he suggests, to which Yuri sighs. “We could, um, we could choreograph? Think up some skating programs together? Even if you can’t skate them yet, it might be fun?”

He holds his breath as Yuri contemplates this, playing with the zipper to his leopard printed (always leopard prints, Viktor’s fashion sense cries so often) sweater.

“We could…” Yuri pulls his zipper up and turns his head to stare out the window, seemingly struggling with what he wants to say. “We could make something for Yuuri. Maybe he would like it.”

Viktor breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I’m sure he would.”

(He’ll bet on Yuuri’s kind heart for this one.)

“Okay,” Yuri says, and by some miracle stops complaining about skating practice being boring.

Viktor ends up choreographing the short programs for two of Yakov’s skaters, and summer passes in a blur.

♡♡♡

When Yuuri finds out that Viktor choreographed for one of his competitors, he’s not sure what to feel. He shouldn’t feel _anything_ , really, but he can’t help it. He’s possibly jealous.

Phichit seems to pick up on this, staying silent the whole time they watch Georgi Popovich perform his short program at Skate America. It’s a good program, Yuuri thinks, much too flashy for himself but fitting the Russian who always seemed rather emotional. It’s also different from what Yuuri expected, but then again, figure skating is different from ballet.

(He can’t help but think, if Viktor had choreographed for _him_ , would he give him something that felt more like Viktor’s dancing?)

“He’s good,” Phichit says tentatively after the scores are announced, “but not as good as you.”

 _I could skate this better_ , a vindictive part of Yuuri thinks, but he shakes it off with a smile that is everything but genuine.

“It’s a new season,” he answers instead, busying himself with cleaning his glasses as the next skater prepares to start. “Nothing is certain.”

“Oh please, you’ll wipe the floor with him. Your program’s perfect!”

(It’s ill-fitting, doesn’t feel like dancing, and the music makes him depressed.)

“It’s alright.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit complains, “you can’t say that. It has two quads! I’ll be lucky if I even nail my _only_ quad in the free!”

“Sorry Phichit, you’re right…”

His friend narrows his eyes in concern, but Yuuri doesn’t feel like talking about it. Luckily Phichit drops the subject, leaving Yuuri to his thoughts. Will Viktor and Yuri wait for him at the airport this year as well? Maybe Yuri is more interested in the Russian skaters now that his dad has worked with them. Either way Yuuri has to stop wondering why Viktor didn’t ask to choreograph for him, because just like the commentator said, it makes sense that Viktor would step up to the task as Lilia Baranovskaya’s prized former student when she was otherwise occupied.

(Viktor really is amazing.)

He’s contemplating typing up a message to congratulate him on creating such a good routine as Georgi places third after the short programs are over, but his plans are interrupted when Yuri tags him in a post.

 

**@yuri-plisetsky**

_I guess 87 points isn’t so bad with dad’s program, but **@yuri_katsuki** would have done it better!_

#skateamerica #yuuridoesitbetter

 

 _Oh_ , Yuuri thinks, swallowing around the lump in his throat, unable to keep a bubble of laughter from escaping him. _This child really is too precious_.

♡♡♡

“Dad.”

Yuri looks troubled, following Yuuri with his eyes as he enters the rink for his free skate.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think Yuuri looks a bit sad?”

Silently, Viktor agrees. Even Yuuri’s theme this year is a little sad.

“Why do you think that?”

“Well…” Yuri is holding up the sign as Yuuri skates past their side of the rink before taking his spot in the middle, brows knitted together. “He didn’t seem very happy with his score for the short, and I mean, he _hugged_ me earlier.”

“You’re very huggable though,” Viktor teases, faking hurt when Yuri slaps his leg.

“Dad, this is _important,_ ” he insists, and Viktor can’t pretend anymore that he isn’t worried too.

“I know, Yurochka. Maybe he has a cold?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like skating anymore,” Yuri mumbles, and Viktor inhales sharply.

“I really don’t think that’s it,” he tries to reassure him, but isn’t sure he can even reassure himself.

They’re in Canada for Yuuri’s first event, and he’s currently in second place after the short program. It’s obvious that something is off, though. Yuuri looked troubled at the warm-up, and his skating is more subdued than usual. He’s still beautiful on the ice, but the emotions aren’t quite there.

He flubs his final combination, Viktor and Yuri wincing at how many points that’s going to cost him. Not enough to push him off the podium, but coupled with the lackluster step sequence in the middle it only earns him a bronze medal.

“Do you think he’ll want to talk to us?” Yuri asks after the ceremony, looking torn between dejection and being happy that Yuuri still has a chance to reach the final.

“We can at least give him the flowers,” Viktor promises, combing a hand through Yuri’s hair. “Even if he’s upset, I’m sure he’ll cheer up more by seeing you than not seeing you.”

Yuri nods, determined now. As soon as Yuuri appears, he stalks over to him and thrusts the flowers in his face.

“Your programs are too sad. Cheer up!”

Ah well, Yuri was never very good at reassuring people, much like his father.

“I, um, thank you,” Yuuri replies, flustered and glancing quickly at Viktor. “I can’t really do anything about the theme, though…”

When Viktor reaches them Yuuri stares down at the flowers, the most colorful bunch they’d seen in the flower shop.

“The flowers are really pretty,” he says, smiling at Yuri. “Are you coming to Japan as well?”

“Of course! I want to see you beat Georgi!”

Yuuri laughs at that, and it’s like watching sunshine break through rainclouds.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says, glancing at Viktor again, and oh, he wishes they were alone so he could ask what’s wrong.

The thought is so sudden that Viktor’s breath catches in his throat, chest clenching as Yuuri makes an excuse that he needs to hurry back to the hotel. He promises to talk to them before the exhibition gala the next day, but Viktor can tell that Yuri isn’t satisfied with that.

“Dad, I told you we should have sent him that choreography we did.”

“Yuri, you can’t just send people choreography,” he sighs, gently pushing his son towards the exit. “Besides, we didn’t have permission to use the songs.”

“We didn’t send them because _you_ didn’t think they were perfect enough.”

“Well,” Viktor admits, “that’s another reason.”

“What about the songs he’s using now? You could make better routines for them.”

“Yuri!” Viktor stops, staring at his son. “Yuuri worked hard on those, don’t you think it’s a little disrespectful?”

“If you don’t do it, I won’t talk to you for a whole month and you’re also not getting any birthday presents.”

“ _Yuri_ ,” Viktor squeaks, “you can’t just blackmail me like that!”

“Well?” Yuri looks about as intimidating as any eleven-year-old, but Viktor still slumps in resignation.

“Fine, but we’re _not_ showing them to him. Promise!”

Yuri shrugs, appeased for now. He can probably see through Viktor’s façade – he wants nothing more than to forget Yuuri’s current routines exist at all. They don’t show his full potential, his _beauty_ , and whoever made them for him should feel lucky that Viktor doesn’t know who they are.

As soon as Yuri falls asleep at the hotel, he gets to work.

(If only he could make Yuuri happy, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Viktor is going to choreograph for Yuuri? Will Yuuri ever become Yurio's coach? Will they ever have an actual conversation??? Well, probably. It's rated M after all ;)
> 
> Anyway I hope you liked the first chapter, please let me know what you thought<333


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor starts digging himself a deep hole and Phichit is a very good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to cut this chapter off earlier than I wanted to, but well, it's over 8K and I don't have time to write more right now:( If you follow me on tumblr you'll be happy to know that I'm at least not leaving you with a cliffhanger like I considered.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for the response to this fic! It really makes me happy! I hope you will like this chapter as well<3 
> 
> Aah, there are so many good fics out there though, it's impossible to keep up. And the new semester starts tomorrow so I've got two crazy weeks ahead of me... I'll be having withdrawal symptoms from lack of yoi. I will try my best to write anyway but I don't know how soon I can update. So if you feel like your yoi cravings aren't satisfied with this chapter, feel free to browse through my bookmarks bc I found lots of good fics to read during the break:D
> 
> But now, please enjoy the chapter!

Yuuri doesn’t necessarily dislike flying, but airports always give him mixed emotions. Stepping into one means you’re leaving someplace behind you, after all, whether it’s for a short or a long time.

Stepping into Japanese airports is the worst, though. It reminds him of the fact that he hasn’t visited his family in years, dedicating all his time to skating and his studies. Sure, he doesn’t regret his choice to compete at this level, but being surrounded by his own language is bittersweet. Having Phichit with him during the flight at least made things easier, because Yuuri almost dreads landing. It’s the first season Phichit got two assignments for the Grand Prix, and while his odds are low after Trophée de France he is his usual cheerful self. Yuuri really hopes he does well, but there are many good skaters competing and being the last event means stakes are high.

Yuuri himself needs to score second place or higher to be sure he can make it to the final. While Phichit doesn’t seem to care much about his placement since he probably won’t medal anyway, Yuuri can’t bring himself to care for a different reason.

He feels uninspired, hollow. He doesn’t want to face Viktor like this, doesn’t want to see little Yuri’s disappointment that Yuuri is fading out.

Even though it’s his twenty-third birthday on the last day of the event he feels _old_. Should he retire? He doesn’t want to, knows that Celestino will be disappointed, knows he could objectively squeeze a few more years out of his body.

But what kind of skater doesn’t enjoy skating? It’s because of his programs, he knows, not because he doesn’t love skating. His theme may be _longing_ , but his free skate only makes him feel like the one thing he longs for is Hasetsu, not gold or success or making his mark in history, but simply eating katsudon with his family.

Retiring means going home, but it also means leaving so many regrets behind him.

So maybe he doesn’t necessarily want to win, but he really, _really_ doesn’t want to lose.

 _I want to skate like Viktor’s dancing_ , he thinks, sighing as the captain announces their descent to Nagano over the speakers.

“I’m so excited!” Phichit gushes next to him, shaking Celestino awake. “Look, you can see the city already!”

Yuuri dutifully looks, as does their barely coherent coach. He hasn’t slept a wink, body sore and stiff, sure he looks a complete mess. If only he could shower and change clothes before facing the few fans waiting in the airport lobby…

Only, _few_ is a terrible understatement. Sure, Yuuri went to the World Team Trophy event in Tokyo held in April, but most of those people had probably been fans of the other Japanese skaters on the team. They’d all flown in at the same time to make a joint appearance, after all, and especially Yuuri’s senior was fawned over since it was his final competition before retiring. During Nationals things were always so organized…

He’d kind of forgotten he was the only male Japanese skater for the NHK Trophy.   

Actually, the only male Japanese skater in the Men’s singles this year.

“Wow, you’re popular with the home crowd,” Phichit whistles as they’re met with a literal wall of cheers upon entering the lobby.

Yuuri isn’t sure what to say to that. He’s used to having only Viktor and Yuri waiting for him, probably because he’s mentioned in interviews that it makes him nervous to greet fans at airports, instead preferring to do it at the rink. And it does make him nervous now; he can feel cold sweat gather at his neck as his eyes flicker between excited faces in the crowd.

“Phichit, help me,” he whispers, because in April he could hide behind the other skaters, and slip away with the help of Celestino and a very nice airport staff member. “You said no one knew when we landed!” he hisses at his coach, who only laughs apologetically.

“Maybe it leaked somehow?”

At least they’re all nicely standing behind a divider, waving their signs and jumping up and down to see him better.

“Oh come on, Yuuri, we can greet them together!”

Phichit grabs him by the arm and drags him over to the frontline, and he’s thankful for the Thai skater’s love of attention. He tries his best to smile in pictures, signing posters and notebooks and fumbling to thank everyone for their support.

He can’t help searching for Viktor and Yuri, but they are nowhere to be seen.

“You’re so popular, Yuuri, I’m jealous!” Phichit complains as Celestino finally lets them escape towards the awaiting taxi. “But I guess I can’t compete with Japan’s ace when in Japan, after all.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Yuuri tells him, trying to shake off the feeling that something’s wrong.

He checks his phone, but there are no messages from Viktor.

“Oh my god, Yuuri, when are you going to realize that-“

“Yuuri!”

 _That voice_.

Yuuri turns, and there Viktor is, running up to them with his coat flapping wildly behind him.

“Wow, I made it,” he pants, wiping his forehead and firing off one of those brilliant smiles that never fail to make Yuuri weak at the knees. “I got on the wrong train first, haha!”

“Where’s Yuri?” he asks, trying not to notice how good Viktor looks when he’s slightly disheveled.

Viktor straightens up, eyeing the mass of fans that still mill about nearby.

“Ah, he has a cold so I made him stay at the hotel. Probably good because he might have started a fight with all your other fans, there’s not usually this many, are there?”

“Someone probably leaked our flight details,” Phichit supplies happily, and while Yuuri does want to introduce them he feels the stress of too many pairs of eyes on them.

“Let’s head to the taxi,” he decides, grabbing them both by the arm and ushering them towards the exit.

It had always seemed natural that only Viktor and Yuri would be greeting him. Having that routine disturbed, and now of all times, leaves an unsettled feeling of nagging worry in Yuuri’s stomach.

Soon enough they’re packed into a car, Yuuri in the middle between Viktor and Phichit. Sadly this means he doesn’t get a chance to relax, because he’s _touching_ Viktor, and there’s no Yuri to distract him from seeing how gorgeous the man is up close.

Just as gorgeous as the first time they met, years ago.

It makes Yuuri feel equal parts ecstatic and terrified to sit squished against him like this.

“So, Viktor, right?” Phichit leans around Yuuri to grin at their additional company. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Too bad we never met until now!”

“Only good things I hope!” Viktor smiles, but there’s a nervous twitch to the corner of his lips as he glances at Yuuri. “And you must be Phichit, right?”

Apparently, this is enough for Phichit to count Viktor as his newest best friend. Usually Yuuri is jealous of Phichit’s ability to bond with anyone anywhere, but right now he’s too embarrassed over the fact that they are only talking about _him_ to appreciate it.

The trip into Nagano isn’t too long but long _enough_ , and by the end of it Yuuri is a flushed mess of deflected compliments and an entire recap of his whole skating career.

“Are you done?” he pleads with them as they reach the urban area, slumping in his seat when they grin at him.

“But Yuuri, I’m learning so much about you!” Viktor says, and his face is _too close_.

“You don’t have to learn it while I’m listening,” he mutters, but gives up anyway.

“It’s good for you to listen though,” Celestino chimes in, “you always underestimate yourself before events!”

“He’s too modest,” Viktor agrees, and Phichit nods so fast that Yuuri worries for his neck.

“You could brag a little more, Yuuri, no one would mind!”

“No thank you.”

Viktor laughs at this, actually _laughs,_ and it’s everything Yuuri needed right now. For a while he can forget about his short program in two days, immersing himself in the presence of Viktor. It has always been easy to talk to him, but they never did manage to get very personal. Sitting together in a taxi like this makes Yuuri feel like that invisible barrier is disappearing just a little, letting him look at Viktor in person for much longer than he ever could before.

When they reach the hotel, Viktor unclasps both his own and Yuuri’s seatbelts. The smile he gives Yuuri while doing so feels private, a glimpse into something that _could be_.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, ignoring how Phichit not so discreetly elbows him in the side.

Once they’re outside, Yuuri is at a loss.

“Which hotel are you staying at?” Phichit asks, even as Celestino goes ahead.

“It’s not far so I can walk from here, what was the name again…”

“I’ll walk you,” Yuuri blurts out, eyes widening once he realizes what he said. “I mean, uh, since you were so nice to come all the way to the airport and everything.”

“I’d like that,” Viktor says softly, and for a moment Yuuri forgets about the world as they smile at each other.

“Well then, I’ll take care of your bag!” Phichit breaks the silence with, easily grabbing Yuuri’s suitcase. “I’ll text you the room numbers!”

And just like that he’s gone, leaving Yuuri completely alone with Viktor. It’s the first time it’s just the two of them since they met, and Yuri’s absence is loud and obvious.

“I think it’s this way,” Viktor tells him, and they start making their way along the street. “I was lucky to book a room close to the arena.”

“That’s nice.” Yuuri licks his lips, searching for something to say.

He can’t precisely say, ‘oh by the way I watched the video you posted of the teachers’ dance exhibition last week at least fifty times because you looked so good that I almost died’.

“How are you holding up? You seemed a bit out of it in Canada.”

Oh god, Viktor noticed? Yuuri doesn’t want him to know how awful he felt afterwards, it took a whole week before he could manage to skate through either of his programs again at practice.

“I’m fine, no need to worry!”

Viktor doesn’t look convinced, opening his mouth to say something but changing his mind.

“Really, I’m just feeling a little uninspired, and my quad flip is still a little too shaky for adding it to my free skate, but I’m good.”

“Hmm.”

When Viktor doesn’t say more than that, Yuuri starts to worry. Is it that obvious that his skating this year isn’t good enough? He scored alright last time, but there’s still a very real possibility that _alright_ isn’t enough this time.

“Viktor?”

“Your programs aren’t good enough for you. They’re subpar.”

Yuuri flinches, stopping dead in his tracks.

“ _Subpar_?”

Viktor turns to face him, eyebrows drawn into a frown.

“I don’t know who made them for you, but you deserve better. Why didn’t you complain? You won’t win like this.”

Even though the words are true, Yuuri’s chest aches.

“I’m sorry,” he forces out, and Viktor’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I just can’t believe your coach allowed this,” Viktor says, tone softer this time. “Choreography is supposed to _enhance_ your strengths, but the more I watched the videos the more I felt like it didn’t suit you at all. You weren’t enjoying yourself.”

Inhaling sharply, Yuuri feels dizzy. He hadn’t thought it was that obvious, because neither Celestino nor Phichit commented on it, but Viktor could tell?

“When you skate, your body creates music, Yuuri. But this time it wasn’t the same music as the one that was playing.”

Yuuri can only stare as Viktor walks closer, taking hold of his upper arms. Surely he’s joking? _Viktor_ is the one who creates music when he’s dancing, and Yuuri doesn’t even need to keep the sound on to hear it.

“I wanted to give you something perfect, but I didn’t have a lot of time…” Viktor squeezes him once before letting go, reaching into his messenger bag for a large envelope. “I guess it’s too late to use it for the Grand Prix, but maybe for Worlds…”

When the envelope is held out to him, Yuuri takes it hesitantly.

“Is this…?”

“Choreography, yes,” Viktor finished the sentence for him, red-cheeked like Yuuri’s never seen him before. “Use it as you like, or throw it away. I tried, but who knows what it will look like on the ice. With Georgi and Mila I choreographed small parts at a time and tweaked them while they skated, so it might not be very good.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes, holding the envelope like it’s his most treasured possession. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“It’s for the same music,” Viktor adds, gesturing towards it. “And um, Yuri insisted on skating it for you, as well as he could…”

“He did?” Yuuri swallows, chest aching for a completely different reason now. “You really didn’t need to… but thank you. Thank you so much.”

Viktor smiles at him, a little shy, but Yuuri feels like the world is brighter for it.

“I just hope you won’t feel obligated to try it if you don’t like it, but I think it’s better than your current routines at least.”

Yuuri laughs, holding the envelope close to his chest to protect it from the wind.

“If you made it, there’s no way it isn’t perfect.”

To his delight, Viktor turns even redder at that.

“I’m just happy if I can do something for you. And well, that choreography really hurts my soul.”

Somehow, Yuuri doesn’t feel discouraged hearing that. Instead his brain is already working up a buzz, imagining what moves Viktor had come up with for him.

“I’ll go look it over right now,” he says, feeling excitement bubble up his throat. “Sorry, can you find the way back on your own?”

Viktor nods, and Yuuri turns on his heels to hurry back. He only takes a step before backtracking, bringing Viktor in for a tight hug.

The second it lasts is enough for his nerves to catch fire.

“Thank you so much,” he says, voice trembling and meeting Viktor’s eyes for one electrifying moment. “It means a lot to me.”

And then he’s off, practically sprinting back to the hotel. In the lobby, Celestino has just received their keys. Yuuri grabs his and speeds towards the stairs, dragging his luggage up two of them in no time while ignoring Phichit calling after him.

As soon as he’s inside he digs out his computer, turning it on before even removing his shoes and coat. The envelope he opens carefully, taking out a usb stick and several papers filled with notes in Viktor’s handwriting. He’s not sure what to expect, but his heart is pounding against his ribs and he feels more alive than he’s done in months.

The usb contains four videos, and when Yuuri clicks the first one he’s presented with Viktor in a dance studio. Probably the one he uses at the ballet school, but Yuuri is more distracted by the track pants and tank top he’s dressed in.

“ _Hi Yuuri~”_ the Viktor on screen says, waving with a smile. “ _Since I can’t skate, I’ll just dance the choreography and you can tweak it later to fit your skating. If you like it, I mean. This is for the short program! Okay Yurochka, you can start the music._ ”

Yuuri doesn’t notice he’s been holding his breath until he gasps as Viktor starts to move. The music for his short program is a classical piece, soft and quiet at first but steadily building up to the crescendo. When Yuuri skates he always feels a slight discrepancy between the song and the way he moves, but when Viktor dances…

He thinks he might cry.

Viktor even imitates his jumps and spins, like he’s skating on solid ground. There’s a mature feeling to his movements that Yuuri isn’t sure he can copy, and a few things definitely need to change for the step sequences to work, but…

It’s beautiful. There’s no other way to describe it – just sheer beauty flowing through his body.

_And I’m supposed to skate this?_

Rather than intimidated, Yuuri feels honored. He watches the video again, a third time, four. He can’t exchange his entire routine for this before the competition, but he wishes he could.

A few parts, maybe, fix the step sequence there, step out of a spin with his arms moving like that, the final pose… He tries it out on the limited floor space in his hotel room, counts the beats in the music to remember where his jumps are. It feels like no time passes at all, but when his computer dies from lack of battery he decides to take a break and watch the other videos.

The second one is Yuri skating his short.

Yuri asks something in Russian, looking at someone (Viktor) behind the camera lens before staring into it with determination. “ _Okay, Yuuri, I can’t do all of it but it’s just so you can see it from this perspective, and dad will give you some comments while I skate. You really need a better program if you want to win at Worlds again!_ ”

He moves to the middle of the rink, taking the same position Yuuri has been practicing for months. It’s the only thing they didn’t change, arms stretched down towards the ice and head tilted forwards. It’s been a while since Yuuri saw him skate more than snippets of step sequences and single jumps, and of course he can’t replicate the difficult movements that Viktor’s feet made but he tries hard with his arms and upper body.

It’s endearing to a degree that Yuuri forgets about choreography for a moment and simply enjoys watching, smiling at the deep concentration on his face and gasping at the small stumble he makes after a single toe loop supposed to represent Yuuri’s quad. Yuri is breathing hard by the end of it, but his smile is so bright that Yuuri can’t help his eyes from watering.

“ _See that, Yuuri? When I’m older I’ll totally beat all your scores!_ ”

There’s a knock on his door, and Yuuri pauses the video to open it. Outside stands Phichit, who takes one look at the tears gathered in his eyes and launches himself on top of him.

“Yuuri I’m so _sorry_! Were you crying this whole time? Celestino said to leave you alone but I’m the worst best friend in the whole world! But you looked _happy_ when you came back so I didn’t think it was anything bad but oh my god I’m really-“

“Phichit,” Yuuri interrupts his blubbering apology with, holding him at arm’s length. “I’m fine. They’re good tears, okay?”

When Phichit looks at him like he’s lost it, he drags him into the room and closes the door behind them.

“Viktor made me new choreography for my short program, and Yuri – his son you know – skated to it so I could see what it looks like.”

Blinking at him, Phichit mulls his words over.

“And you cried, because?”

“Just come watch.”

By the end of both videos for the short program, Phichit is grinning so hard that Yuuri fears his face will split in half.

“Yuuri, he is _so_ into you.”

“What! That’s not what it- it’s just _choreography_.”

“Uh yeah? For a rival country’s competitor? If he just went ahead and did this because he didn’t like your actual choreography he would do it for everyone else too.”

“It’s because Yuri’s a fan.”

“Oh Yuuri, he danced like he was thinking about doing dirty things to you. I should have a talk with him about threatening your innocence!”

“Nobody’s threatening my innocence except _you_ , Phichit!”

“Mhm, the way he looked at you after we got out of the taxi says otherwise.”

Yuuri throws a pillow at him, wondering how Phichit could look so sweet and innocent on the outside and then shamelessly say things like that.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he says, then hesitates a moment before continuing. “I want to add some of it to my routine, could you help me?”

“You-“ Phichit looks speechless, gaze flitting between the screen and Yuuri like he’d been told it was a time machine. “You want to _what_?!”

“I want to add parts of it,” he repeats, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. “I know I kept saying my program is fine, but, I actually don’t like it much. I don’t think I can perform it very well tomorrow.”

“But Yuuri, if you change things now without having time to practice… what if you mess up completely?”

“I know,” he replies, taking a deep breath. “But I still want to.”

Phichit stares at him for a long moment, probably wondering just what happened in the short hours between leaving the airport and now.

“Not everything, Phichit, and I’ll keep my jumps and spins where they are. Just small parts of the step sequences and then the last part?”

Letting out an explosive sigh Phichit nods before fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“I’ll just let Leo know we can’t have dinner with him tonight. Don’t worry, it’s fine. Let’s make your boyfriend so proud he _has_ to ask you out.”

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” Yuuri cries, not having the strength to comment on how illogical that sentence even was.

When all Phichit does is raise his eyebrows at him, Yuuri groans and falls backwards on the bed. He’s glad that Phichit agreed to help, though. There’s an open practice at the rink tomorrow, but Yuuri knows that if he tries his new moves tomorrow, Celestino will definitely notice and forbid him from changing his program. Maybe if Phichit distracts him enough he could try out the footwork at least…

It’s a risk, for sure. It could end in disaster, but for once in his life Yuuri doesn’t worry about that. He just wants to skate the routine that Viktor made for him, and he knows that even if he messes up, he’ll do the same thing to his free skate.

It’s make it or break it. Take a step forward or retire.

Yuuri knows which path his heart prefers.

♡♡♡

Viktor is concerned, but Yuri looks one hundred percent determined as he drags his feet towards their seats. He’s at least wearing his thick winter coat and warm socks, but he keeps sneezing.

“Maybe we should have brought a blanket,” Viktor says. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”

Yuri sends him a glare, pulling his fluffy (leopard-printed) hat further down his ears.

“You dressed me for Siberia,” he mutters, turning into their row. “Obviously I’m not cold.”

“Aah, only your attitude towards your poor father is cold.”

The boy snorts, and they brush past a few other people before they reach their seats. The ice is still empty, because the men’s open morning practice isn’t due for another ten minutes, but Viktor can see a few skaters talking to their coaches as they wait.

“Did he reply yet?”

Viktor checks his phone before shaking his head.

“He’s busy, you know.”

“He still could have said something about the choreography!”

“He said he loved it.”

“Yeah, but is he going to _use_ it?”

Biting his lips, Viktor turns his phone back and forth. Yuuri had only sent a single message last night, thanking him and assuring that he loved the choreography very much. It wasn’t until Yuri started pestering him about it that he realized just how much he wants to see Yuuri skate his routine, preferably _right now_.

“Only an idiot would change his routine overnight, Yurochka. Maybe if he likes it we can do it for real next season.”

“But it’s so much _better_ ,” Yuri wails, coughing into his gloves until Viktor hands him a water bottle.

 _I know, Yuri_ , he thinks, cursing himself for not asking Yuuri if he’d be interested in his help during summer. He just hadn’t felt confident enough to choreograph for someone at such a level yet, even if Mila and Georgi are skilled enough for the Grand Prix they’re not _Yuuri Katsuki_.  

Viktor is nervous. He’s nervous that Yuuri won’t like his ideas, nervous that he _will_ like them but they still won’t be good enough for competition.

He’s not used to feeling like this. When he choreographs for ballet he doesn’t think for a second that the final product isn’t great. Of course, if the dancer or the ballet company doesn’t like what he offers, then that’s that. No hard feelings.

His phone vibrates, signaling Yuuri’s reply.

 _08:14  
[Good luck at practice today~ _ (ゝω･) _]_

_09:53_

_[Thank you! Tell Yuri I hope he feels better soon!]_

_[Oh, and I’m very sorry but I can’t meet up afterwards]_

_[I have an interview and then I’m helping Phichit with something…]_

_09:55_

_[Don’t worry about it, Yura needs to go back to the hotel anyway]_

_[But he at least feels better today!]_

_09:56_

_[That’s a relief!]_

_09:56_

_[We’ll be cheering for you!_ ヽ(•̀ω•́ )ゝ✧ _]_

_09:58_

_[I’ll do my best!_ (　･`ω･´)]

Yuri has been looking over his shoulder for the whole exchange, arguing that he didn’t need to go back to the hotel at all. His arguments were about as pathetic as he looks, with his red nose and constant sniffles. Viktor _hopes_ he really feels better because he wouldn’t be a very good dad if he allowed his son to sit in a cold ice rink while sick.

“Do you think he’ll at least have time tonight?” Yuri mumbles, staring dejectedly as a few other skaters take to the ice first.

Viktor puts an arm around him and pulls him close, and Yuri snuggles closer.

“I hope so,” he says, shaking off the strange feeling that Yuuri is avoiding them.

He needn’t worry – when Yuuri enters the ice he makes a slow lap around the rink, waving at fans. When he reaches their side and catches sight of them, he slows down to give a thumbs up and a little twirl before skating backwards to continue warming up.

The bright smile is what really gets Viktor, though.

It’s as if the temperature rose to scalding hot in the three seconds Yuuri smiled at him, and he has to pull down his scarf just a bit to breathe properly.

“Dad.”

“Hmm?”

“Why was he smiling at _you_? I’m his number one fan, you’re just my dad!”

Viktor coughs, tearing his eyes away from the Japanese skater as he makes another lap.

“Maybe he really liked the choreography?”

All he gets in reply is a huff, but he can’t bring himself to feel guilty. It might have been his son who became instantly attached to Yuuri after finding out there was a skater with the same name as him, but Viktor didn’t take long to follow. Yuuri dances on the ice in a way that few others do, always making Viktor’s fingers twitch with the urge to dance with him.

But Viktor doesn’t skate, and non-Russian skaters can’t go to Lilia’s ballet school.

Simply asking him to dance seems an impossible dream, and yet he yearns for it. He wants to know how Yuuri’s body would move against his, if they would be in sync, if they could create music together…

Yuuri tries out a jump and Viktor’s breath catches in his throat. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen Yuuri do the exact same thing, be it live or on video, there’s something mesmerizing about the sound of his skates grating against the ice. He’s not the only one who seems to think so, because there’s a round of applause for him before he slows down again to talk to his coach.

For some reason Celestino looks a little unhappy, gesturing wildly. The camera men seem to pick up on this as well, zooming in on their conversation. Yuuri shakes his head, but he looks distracted. He says something and pushes away to continue skating, Celestino frowning after him. It doesn’t take long for Yuuri to try out another jump, a triple toe-half loop-triple flip combination that’s supposed to start with a quad in the program.

It’s perfectly executed, warranting more applause and a few cheers. Some of the other skaters are watching him, too, as he rolls his shoulders like it was nothing.

The Yuuri off ice is certainly different from the one on ice, the intense focus in his eyes as the camera does a close-up strong enough to send shivers down Viktor’s spine. He seems to be thinking hard on something, gliding back and forth out of the way to one end of the rink. He takes a few steps with barely any speed, frowning before redoing it slightly differently.

He does it again, swinging his arms behind him and around in a familiar way – but it can’t be, right?

“What’s he doing?” Yuri asks, chewing on the sleeve of his jacket.

Viktor pushes his hand away from his mouth, a silent battle of wills, until Yuri concedes and shoves his hands between his thighs.

“I’m not sure what he’s doing,” he replies, digging around his pocket for the small bar of chocolate he knows is there. “Eat this instead.”

As Yuri munches happily, Viktor tries to stay calm. Surely Yuuri wasn’t practicing his choreography. Maybe he was just curious how it would feel on the ice. Maybe Viktor is just seeing things because he wants them to happen.

Yuuri tries a few more jumps and goes through a step sequence, Celestino seemingly pleased with him. He then spends a while watching Phichit, offering some advice (not that Viktor is watching him instead of the other skaters that actually practice or anything). Phichit says something and they both laugh, and maybe Viktor should consider getting help because it really can’t be healthy for his lungs to constrict like that.

If Yuri is disappointed they can’t talk to him after the practice, Viktor is teetering on the edge of misery.

Once Yuuri has left he pulls out his phone, scrolling through social media for anything related to the competition. And if he lingers a little longer on things related to Yuuri, he pretends not to notice.

♡♡♡

Phichit is only slightly worried over Yuuri’s sudden decision to change his program components. He _does_ feel bad over not noticing that Yuuri was unhappy with his actual program, but with the way he always dismisses his own skill it’s hard to tell the difference. So while he isn’t worried about Yuuri changing his program, he’s worried about what might happen if Yuuri doesn’t live up to his own expectations. He’s not as confident as he looks, and off the ice he doesn’t look very confident to begin with.

“Yuuri? I brought food.”

It doesn’t take long for Yuuri to open his hotel room, having barricaded himself in there for the past hour after the open practice ended and all the interviews and so on were over with.

“If you practice too much, even someone with your stamina will be too tired to actually compete.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

They eat in silence, because Yuuri has that far-off look in his eyes that means his focus is somewhere else entirely, and Phichit has lived long enough with him to know there’s no point talking.

Even if he wants to talk.

Even if he _really_ wants to talk so he can get rid of some of his own nerves about tomorrow’s short program. Instead he snaps a picture of Yuuri with chopsticks in his mouth, where they’ve rested for the past two minutes or so as his thoughts catch on something.

 

_[image]_

**Phichit+chu** Yuuri is so focused he forgets to eat! Expect a surprise tomorrow!

#nhktrophy #yurikatsuki #notthequadflipsadly

 

It’s safe to post because Yuuri turns off all social media during competitions, and what is a best friend for if not to post embarrassing pictures all over the internet? It doesn’t take long for the likes and comments to start pouring in, several of them sad it isn’t the flip. Of course, Yuuri doesn’t _need_ that jump to win, but he’d stated it as one of his goals to add it this season, though Phichit suspects one reason he hasn’t yet is because the pressure is getting to him. He can land it in practice most of the time, but it became such a hang-up for him that Celestino told him to stop practicing it during the Grand Prix.

Yuuri might have his anxiety mostly under control, but lately it’s been acting up again.

“Phichit,” Yuuri says, chopsticks remembered again. “Do you mind if we go through it one more time?”

Stifling a groan, Phichit kicks Yuuri’s ankle.

“After you eat. I don’t want you fainting from lack of blood sugar!”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri argues, but Phichit isn’t having any of it.

“I don’t want you to beat me even after not eating or sleeping properly. I’ll be depressed! Besides, Celestino made me swear I wouldn’t let you do anything at all before you finished your food.”

When Yuuri opens his mouth, Phichit presses a finger to it.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll ‘accidentally’ drop chili into your dinner too next time I cook,” he sings, smiling wide when Yuuri’s shoulders slump in resignation.

 Though, as important as it is that Yuuri eats, the opposite is cause for more concern. When Yuuri is stressed, he eats. When Yuuri is inspired, he forgets.

Inspiration is better for skating, Phichit has noticed.

Or maybe he’s just thinking about Viktor again, which isn’t necessarily different.

Either way he might just need to sleep in Yuuri’s room tonight to make sure he doesn’t stay up until 4 AM again. Hopefully he’ll settle down after their second slot of practice time this afternoon, but sometimes all that stamina is more of a curse than a blessing. At least for Phichit since he has to try and keep up with it.

“Phichit, do me a favor at practice? Distract Celestino for a bit? I really need to practice those steps leading into the Ina Bauer.”

Phichit is about to argue, because the power of love can’t solve everything, really. But he nods, booping Yuuri’s cheek with a chopstick and laughing when he threatens to throw food at him.

Yuuri is his friend above all. He just wants him to be happy.

♡♡♡

Viktor has liked, commented on, and saved the photo Phichit posted of Yuuri. It’s a good photo. All photos of Yuuri are good, really, but Phichit replied to his good luck comment with three winking emojis and Viktor is slightly embarrassed even hours later.

Also, slightly hopeful.

But mostly embarrassed, because someone connected the dots and now Georgi’s fanbase is very upset with him. At least according to Mila, who doesn’t seem very concerned about their anger. Both she and Georgi of course know that Yuri is a huge fan of the Japanese Yuuri, because the child has only mentioned the fact about a million times. What Mila _doesn’t_ know, she claims, is why Phichit would send him those smiley faces, and so Viktor has to tell her about the taxi ride as they eat an early dinner together. She’s not competing this time, but Sara Crispino is and since Mila didn’t make it to the final she decided to come cheer for her. Viktor can relate.

Both the Crispino siblings are with them, but Yuri is sleeping in the hotel room, annoyed that he wasn’t allowed to join. Viktor might have let him if he wasn’t fast asleep an hour before Viktor even headed out.

“Anyway,” Mila says to avoid yet another sibling fight in the restaurant. “What do you think the surprise is? Yuuri usually sticks to protocol.”

“Well, sticking to protocol works, doesn’t it?” Sara comments, elbowing Michele in the ribs when he rolls his eyes. “But I guess he seemed a bit off in Canada.”

“Who cares,” Michele complains, stabbing at his dumplings. “It’s not surprising that he’ll make it to the final, is it?”

“Maybe he changed his costume,” Mila muses, “or he’ll do the quad flip anyway.”

“I doubt it,” Viktor says, already finished with his food and thinking that he should go back to Yuri soon. “He told me it wasn’t good enough for competition yet.”

“Viktor, you know something.” Mila bores her eyes into him, pointing rudely with her chopsticks. “You know _Yuuri_.”

“I really wouldn’t say I know him.”

“You have his phone number!” Sara exclaims, leaning back in her chair. “The rest of us mortals have to go through Phichit if we want to contact him.”

Viktor clears his throat, embarrassingly red around the ears. He hadn’t known Yuuri’s contact info was that hard to get, because he seemed friendly enough with the other skaters.

“I’m sure he’d give it to you if you asked.”

“Say, Viktor…” Mila drags out the r, tapping her nails against the table. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the choreography you made me try out two weeks ago? That step sequence transitioning into an Ina Bauer? Which, coincidentally, Yuuri is the only one to use in his program among the male skaters?”

Viktor squirms in his seat, refusing to look at her.

“And which was suspiciously similar to what I saw him practice in the corridor outside his hotel room around midnight?”

“Wow, look at the time! I think I have to go back to my dear Yurochka now, or he’ll throw a fit over being left alone!”

Viktor stands up, grabs his coat and digs out a few bills from his wallet.

“See you tomorrow!” he chirps, making a swift exit much to Mila’s amusement.

He’ll hear about this later, of course, but imagining Yuuri changing his program at the last minute to add Viktor’s choreography… He really doesn’t want to be around people when the possibility fully hits him. Yuuri practiced it at the hotel? Viktor brings a hand up to his mouth, hiding the stupid grin that threatens to appear.

Even if Yuuri doesn’t use it, knowing he _tried_ it is good enough.

It makes him feel more accomplished than winning any ballet competition ever did. It’s more on the level of the first time Yuri called him dad, which is a good feeling when it comes to your son, and maybe less good to feel about someone you only meet a few times each year.

Viktor is past the point of regrets, however, and halfway through denial.

When he exits the restaurant he doesn’t expect to bump into Yuuri. It’s not _strange_ that he does, because they were having dinner in the skaters’ hotel after all, but seeing Yuuri standing in the lobby dressed in a tracksuit made for running effectively pulls him up short.

“Yuuri?”

The younger man looks up from his phone, startled as he almost drops it.

“Viktor? What are you doing here?”

He looks nervous, face flushed as he tries to hide it underneath the collar of his jacket.

“I was having dinner with Mila and the Crispino siblings… Are you going out for a run?”

Yuuri nods, then hurriedly pulls his earphones out of his ears and scrunches them up in his hand. He’s not meeting Viktor’s eyes, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead as he smiles shyly.

Viktor’s knees go weak.

“The receptionist said you can run along the river, it’s not very far.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, during which a group of American pair skaters walk past them. Viktor has to move and stand a little closer to Yuuri to make sure he doesn’t block the entrance to the restaurant, and when Yuuri shuffles to move closer as well he can’t help the rush of blood through his veins.

“I could-“

“Do you-“

They pause, and Yuuri finally meets his eyes.

“Sorry, you go first,” Viktor offers, lips twitching into an amused smile.

It’s so silly, acting like a teenager with a crush, but Yuuri smiles back and all he feels is breathless anticipation.

“I was going to say that I could walk you back to your hotel, if you want? Since I just ran off yesterday I mean. I’m really sorry about that by the way!”

“It’s perfectly fine, I’m just happy you wanted to check my choreography.”

Yuuri nods again, but doesn’t offer any further comments. Viktor burns with the need to know what he thought of it in person.

“We should probably go outside at least,” Yuuri says instead, and Viktor silently follows him through the glass doors.

The sun is setting, but it doesn’t feel very cold. It might have something to do with Yuuri’s arm brushing his as they stop outside to breathe in the fresh air.

“So,” Yuuri starts, and Viktor is brought back to reality.

“Oh, right! Let’s walk, then?”

They make their way along the sidewalk, and Viktor racks his brain for something to say. He’s been blessed with yet another moment alone with Yuuri, and he desperately wants to talk to him about something that doesn’t involve skating.

“I’ve never been to Nagano before,” he tries, wincing at the boring subject. “It seems very nice.”

“Mm. I’ve been here for competitions a few times, but I never had any time to go sightseeing.”

“I know the feeling, competitions are so busy.”

“Yours too?” Yuuri asks, glancing at him but quickly looking down when Viktor smiles at him.

“Yeah, but it’s been a while now… I can’t believe I’m already turning thirty-one! I feel like my hair is turning greyer by the minute.”

Yuuri laughs, covering his mouth with his hands, only laughing more when Viktor pushes at his shoulder in mock hurt.

“Yuuri,” he whines, heart skipping a beat when Yuuri blushes again.

“I’m sorry, but isn’t your hair grey already?”

“Yuuri!” he gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “It’s platinum blond! _Platinum blond_ , Yuuri!”

He probably enjoys saying Yuuri’s name a little too much, but the way Yuuri reacts is just too precious.

“Are you sure there’s a difference?”

“Oh Yuuri, I will cry. My heart is broken. Soon you’ll tell me it’s getting thin, too!”

Yuuri purses his lips, pretending to contemplate it. His brown eyes are sparkling with mirth, and Viktor wonders if he can pretend to get lost so they can spend the whole evening together.

“I wouldn’t say that, no…”

“Poor Yurochka,” Viktor sighs, hand on his forehead now. “Lost his father to such cruel words. You’ll have to take responsibility and adopt him! He’s not so bad if you remember to feed him often and let him skate regularly.”

“Is he your child or your pet?” Yuuri asks, but he’s still laughing and so _beautiful_.

“Sometimes I’m not entirely sure,” Viktor muses, laughing as well when Yuuri sends him a look.

“Try not to die so easily, though,” Yuuri mumbles, playing with the zipper of his jacket and pressing it against his chin. “He would be very sad to lose you, I think.”

Viktor feels like his breath got punched out of his lungs. Something about the way he said it makes Viktor think that Yuuri would be sad, too, and the lump that forms in his throat is too heavy for a simple conversation.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “As old as I feel, I’m not planning on kicking the bucket anytime soon.”

This time Yuuri lets out a snort, slapping his hands over his mouth in horror but still laughing all the same.

“What?” Viktor asks, unable to help a small grin. “What’s so funny?”

“No, I just- I don’t know, when you said ‘kick the bucket’ it just sounded so-“

Raising an eyebrow, Viktor waits for Yuuri to elaborate but he only shakes his head, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Did I pronounce it wrong? I know my English isn’t perfect, but-“

Yuuri shakes his head more insistently now, finally removing his hands from those pretty lips of his. His teeth are biting into the lower lip, cheeks flushed with color, causing a sharp spike of arousal to hit Viktor in the gut.

Maybe to preserve his own sanity he shouldn’t be allowed to spend time with Yuuri alone.

“I don’t know why it was so funny, I’m sorry…”

“Hmm,” Viktor hums, narrowing his eyes at Yuuri. “I’m not sure if I can forgive you for this…”

Yuuri smiles at him, like _really_ smiles at him, and is that a choir of angels in the background?

Viktor stumbles. His shoe actually catches on something and he _stumbles_ , cursing in Russian as he jumps on one foot to catch his balance again.

“Viktor! Are you okay?”

He would stumble a million times if it meant Yuuri calling his name. The Japanese accent just makes his name sound _better_ somehow, like it’s something unique he doesn’t share with countless people.

“I’m fine!” he squeaks, willing his heart to stop pounding in his chest. “Never been better!”

Luckily Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice his fluster, or if he does he at least doesn’t comment. They spend the rest of the short walk talking about Yuri, a much safer topic except for all the times that Viktor’s thoughts drift off to domestic fantasy scenarios where he and Yuuri are married and he wouldn’t have to explain how much Yuri hates having to sit still for hours on end because Yuuri would _know_.

Viktor knows he has a tendency to let his imagination run wild. It’s very helpful for choreography, but less so when he’s talking to someone and can’t stop picturing having breakfast with them. Though it’s not like that particular problem happens a lot. It mostly just happens with Yuuri.

“Ah, isn’t this your hotel?”

Pausing mid-step, Viktor stares up at the tall building. It is. Sadly.

“You’re right. It _is_ my hotel. Wow I almost missed it completely.”

“You should pay more attention to where you’re walking,” Yuuri teases, and Viktor just wants to cup his cheeks and kiss him forever.

 _This is getting out of hand_ , he tells himself, shoving his hands down the pockets of his coat so he won’t do something stupid with them.

“I’m not usually this distracted,” he says, biting his tongue immediately afterwards.

He’s not supposed to _flirt_ with Yuuri. He’s not supposed to do more than cheer him on, really, but it’s so _hard_ when Yuuri makes his heart flutter so effortlessly.

“O-oh,” Yuuri stammers, one hand clutching the front of his jacket.

He looks uncomfortable. Is he uncomfortable? Viktor hopes he isn’t.

“I guess I shouldn’t keep you from your run any longer,” he says, and Yuuri whips his head up at him as if he’d forgotten about it.

“Right! My run! Phichit will be worried if I stay out too long, haha…”

“Yeah…”

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, Viktor with a half-question stuck in his throat because he doesn’t want to be separated yet. Surely Yuuri wouldn’t have walked with him if he disliked his company? But they’ve been staring too long, and Viktor feels the urge to do something stupid (as in: caress Yuuri’s cheek, ask him to stay the night, beg him to walk around the block ten more times until it’s cold enough to excuse holding hands) grow stronger by the second.

“I should go,” Yuuri whispers, then promptly turns bright red and takes a step back, wildly turning his head around to stare at anything but Viktor. “I mean! Thank you so much for the choreography and everything! Tell Yuri to get better soon! Goodnight!”

And then he’s off, speeding down the street back the way they came from. Viktor watches him go, eyes wide and mouth open in a soundless reply. This man will truly be the death of him.

When he reaches the hotel room, Yuri is awake and typing furiously on his phone.

“I can’t believe you!” he complains, still typing. “You’re friends with Phichit now? The one time I’m sick all the fun stuff happens!”

“Ah, if you mean the reply he made to my comment-“

“I mean this!”

Yuri jumps off the bed and shoves his phone in Viktor’s face, too close to see anything. When he finally holds it at a less obnoxious distance, Viktor sees the tweet that’s supposedly what Yuri’s been missing out on.

 

**@phichitchu**

_Sure! Viktor and I are totally buddies now! Anyone Yuuri likes is my friend too <3 _ **@skaterfan15**

#yurikatsuki #yuuridoesballetyouknow #nhktrophy #newfriend

 

“And then he posted a video of Yuuri dancing your entry to a competition!” Yuri tells him, withdrawing his phone to scroll before handing it back.

Viktor can’t breathe. He stares at the phone, at the video frozen on an image of Yuuri in what looks to be a ballet studio, mid-jump. He can’t believe he ate dinner instead of being on his phone when Phichit posted it. Though, meeting the real Yuuri could maybe make up for it.

“Is it really…?”

Yuri nods, blond hair bobbing with the movement.

“It’s the one you made me practice last year. The really annoying one.”

Viktor’s lips twitch, because Yuri had complained he never got to do anything _interesting_ so Viktor made him try one of his most difficult competition entries. And Yuuri danced it for no reason?

Swallowing the lump in his throat he faintly wonders if the past two days have been real, and presses play.

The video is tagged #willdeletetomorrow #oryuuriwillkillme so Viktor needs to make sure he downloads it in several copies because _oh god_ , five seconds in and he might never be able to watch another person dance again.

Yuuri is perfect. Not objectively perfect, but Viktor can’t look at Yuuri without dying on the inside so it’s not like it matters.

Yuuri is _perfect_ and Viktor is only a man.

“Say, Yurochka, Detroit is a rather nice city, right? Do you think they have a ballet school?”

Yuri blinks at him, then snatches the phone back much to Viktor’s pain.

“You think Yuuri will let us visit him?”

 _I think if we don’t visit him I’ll die_ , Viktor thinks, sitting down on the bed and holding a hand over his chest as he tries to remember how lungs work.

“If he’s going to dance my stuff he should learn to do it properly,” he says instead, staring unseeingly at the door.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

There’s concern etched onto his son’s face, and Viktor reaches out to flick his cheek.

“I’m getting old, you know. You can’t just show me things that could give me a heart attack!”

“It’s just dancing,” Yuri tells him, pushing his hand away. “His skating is much cooler.”

“Yeah,” Viktor sighs, trying to find some semblance of control over his life again. “Yeah, of course it is.”

But not as dangerous.

Nowhere _near_ as dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How deep can Viktor dig before Yuuri figures him out? I'm guessing deep lol. 
> 
> Anyway, everything you read about figure skating in this fic I have learned from the internet. I can skate, sure, but you can't compare a cheese sandwich to a seven course michelin star meal lol. Hopefully nothing is too inaccurate haha! 
> 
> I hope I managed to meet a few of your requests at least! Thank you for reading<333


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is happy, Yuri is very happy, and Viktor has no chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! It feels like it took me forever to write this chapter, because after writing most of it I got really busy, then I had a bad case of writer's block while being busy, and well. I finally pushed through it last night so I could finish today. Hopefully you'll like it!
> 
> And thank you again for all the kudos and comments, you make my day every time<333

 

Viktor tries to concentrate on the skaters that are lined up before Yuuri, he really does, but if you asked him what he thought of their routines he wouldn’t be able to tell you.

He wouldn’t particularly care, either.

Yuri does, of course, tweeting about each performance with a dedication Viktor wishes he could have when doing his homework. He would usually check what he writes, but since every analysis lately seems to end up as some variation of ‘Yuuri does it better’ he decides to leave his son’s phone alone and concentrate on staring into nothing instead.

It’s hard, when his entire body is filled with an impatient buzz, foot tapping restlessly against the floor. What will Yuuri do? He wants desperately to know if his desire to see Yuuri skate his choreography will be fulfilled tonight. Thinking about it fills his chest with sweet pain, a longing that has only grown stronger since he first jotted down possible ideas to improve Yuuri’s current routine.

He wants to see it, but he’s almost afraid of his own reaction. If Yuuri chooses not to use it, of course he will understand. No sane skater would suddenly change their carefully practiced program components on a whim. But Yuuri is not a regular skater, and Viktor has always had the nagging feeling that if pushed, Yuuri could go far beyond everyone’s expectations.

Viktor wants to push him, just that little bit to see him skate as sensually as he can dance. Of course, he knows it’s a pointless desire since he will never get that chance, being neither Yuuri’s coach nor his ballet instructor.

He wishes he was.

Ever since watching the video of Yuuri dancing last night his thoughts have been plagued with the urge to bring him home, to see Yuuri in his dance studio, to _somehow_ give him everything he possibly could for Yuuri to shine even brighter on the ice.

Of course, Yuuri shines bright enough as it is. His long list of accomplishments is testament to that, _but_.

It doesn’t stop the twitch in Viktor’s fingers or the squeeze in his throat, and it does absolutely nothing to quell Viktor’s ridiculous _want_.

“God, I’m pathetic,” he breathes into his cupped hands, elbows digging into his knees as he leans forward in his seat.

His words are drowned out by cheers, the Swiss skater up before Yuuri performing a flawless jump.

Viktor doesn’t notice.

♡♡♡

“Yuuri.”

Celestino is talking to him, but Yuuri barely finds it in him to pay attention. His thoughts are far away, already in the center of the rink.

“Yuuri, please, do your stretches. This is the third time you lose focus.”

He startles at that, Celestino’s hand landing on his shoulder. Nodding, Yuuri forces his body to move on autopilot, breathing deep and slow. It’s obvious that Celestino thinks he might be losing it, but Yuuri has never felt more excited to step out into the arena than he does right now. He thinks of Viktor’s reaction, wishing he could see it as soon as he finishes. Will he be surprised? Happy? Exasperated?

Yuuri is taking a terrible risk, but it’s exactly what he needed to find motivation again. You can’t win a few times and be satisfied  with where you are, but Yuuri had done just that. He had forgotten his strive to win, to improve and inspire, instead falling into a tired sense of _this is it_. Somewhere along the way competing had changed from the highlight of the year to a necessary evil, a reason to excuse the amount of time he spent on the ice.

And he loves the ice, loves _skating_ , but he had forgotten his love for competitions. As much as he hates attention, and as much as he has struggled to keep his anxiety in check, competing was always something he _needed_. He wants to be the best, wants to prove himself, reach new heights, but the past year has been…

Tiring. Exhausting. A mess of obsessing over the quad flip and struggling to keep up with his studies, pretending he was too focused on skating to go on the dates Phichit set up for him when really he couldn’t stop thinking about a certain Russian man and beating himself up over thinking about him (rinse and repeat daily).

He hasn’t been home in years, either. Skype calls can’t replace the smell of his mother’s cooking, the soothing heat of the onsen, the view of the ocean stretching out endlessly from the beach. Detroit just isn’t the same. And while he is going to meet his family at Nationals again this year, his decrease in motivation has called up the memories in a never ending stream of wistfulness.

 _I still want to go home_ , he thinks, even with his newfound determination. _I want to show Viktor and Yuri-_

He quickly cuts the thought off before it can manifest itself in his consciousness, finishing his stretches. Celestino beckons to him that it’s time, and he swallows the lump in his throat as he walks over to him. He’s ready, even if his routine isn’t, not really. He’s prepared for a lower score than usual, though it won’t be for lack of trying. When Viktor made this choreography he must have imagined him winning, and Yuuri doesn’t want to disappoint.

Skating tonight, he wants to show Viktor how much it means to him, having this kind of support from both him and Yuri.

Even if he loses the competition, he refuses to disappoint his number one fans by not pouring his heart into his skating.

Christophe skates before him, and his music is a mesmerizing beat that fills Yuuri’s chest as they wait just outside the entrance to the rink. Celestino peeks at the performance before finally pushing the heavy curtain aside, allowing Yuuri to enter. Blinking slightly against the bright light, Yuuri searches for two certain people somewhere in the audience.

Without his glasses he can’t possibly find them at this distance, but he knows they’re there and that’s enough.

“Take it easy, okay?” Celestino says to him, patting his back. “If you don’t feel up to it, change your quads to triples. You can get enough points to make up for it with the free skate tomorrow... Yuuri?”

“I’m fine,” he breathes, shaking his hands before unzipping his team jacket from the Olympics. “And if I’m not-“

He shrugs, handing the jacket to Celestino. Christophe has finished, and when he heads towards the kiss and cry Yuuri steps onto the ice.

“If I’m not fine,” he repeats, sweeping his gaze over the audience before giving Celestino an apologetic smile. “Then I want you to know that you’re the best coach I ever had.”

Pushing off, he heads towards the middle of the arena, clearing his mind like he always does before a program starts. He tunes out the audience, focusing on the sound of his blades and the exhilaration that comes with gliding over smooth ice.

He knows what to do, but can he do it?

Taking his position, Yuuri inhales slowly and can’t help but smile.

Some things you won’t know until you try them.

♡♡♡

When Yuuri enters the arena, Yuri hits his dad’s arm harder than he probably needs to.

“Dad! There he is!”

“I can see him,” his dad replies, but where he would usually sound amused there is now a weird breathless tone to the words.

Frowning, Yuri glances up at him. Most of his face is hidden from view by the hair falling over his forehead, but his knuckles are almost white from how hard he clenches the fabric of his pants.

“Dad?”

No response. Yuri bites his lip, glancing between Yuuri and Viktor. He knows that his dad is a huge fan, even if Yuri is the number _one_ fan. His dad comes in as a close second, though, and Yuri also knows that he poured _way_ more work into Yuuri’s new choreography than he needed to.

If Yuuri doesn’t use it, Yuri will kick him so hard he’ll regret it for sure. But not so hard that he gets injured and can’t skate, just enough to bruise.

“Dad!” he tries again, and this time Viktor startles but doesn’t remove his eyes from where Yuuri stands.

“Yes, Yurochka?”

“You’re too tense. He’ll be fine, I mean he’s _Yuuri_.”

It brings a small smile to his dad’s lips, and his hands relax.

“I’m not worried,” Viktor lies, because Yuri can tell he _is_.

Well, either that or he’s just gone crazy from watching that video of Yuuri dancing too many times. Seriously, Yuri woke up after midnight to use the toilet and what was his dad doing? Staring dumbly at his phone of course, denying it heavily when Yuri asked.

(They ended up watching it twice together, and then a couple of Yuuri’s performances from earlier seasons too.)

“Whatever,” Yuri mumbles, sneezing into his sleeve and blowing his nose with the napkin his dad so conveniently provides.

As Christophe Giacometti finishes Yuri claps with the rest of the audience, noticing his dad not doing the same. His eyes are still glued to Yuuri, who is now preparing to enter the ice. It’s weird, but lately he’s felt as if his dad likes Yuuri a little _too much_ , coming back from seeing him at the airport with a really stupid smile on his face and gushing over how sweet he is.

Yuuri isn’t sweet, he’s _super cool_. So much cooler than the hockey players his classmates like. _And_ his skating is way more exciting to watch than his dancing. Then again, his dad was always a bigger fan of ballet, he supposes.

He joins in on the cheering as Yuuri does a slow lap around the rink, not waving to the audience like most other skaters do. But it’s okay, because everyone knows he’s just trying to focus. Yuri asked him once if he didn’t like the cheering, or if it made him nervous, but Yuuri had just ruffled his hair and apologized for being so focused during competitions.

Even now, after talking to Yuuri so many times, he still feels all warm and happy to know that he’s _special_ , not just any other fan of Yuuri’s. Whenever he’s bored at skating practice he pretends it’s Yuuri coaching him instead, smiling encouragingly at him whenever he succeeds with a jump.

He can’t wait to be old enough for Juniors, so that he can ask Yuuri if he would be his coach. Even if it’s only for one season, or half a season, or even a week; it’s Yuri’s dream to skate on the same ice as him.

He wants Yuuri to be _proud_ of him. Sure, his dad is already proud of him, but that doesn’t count. He’d be proud no matter what, he _has_ to be. But to hear Yuuri say something like that… It makes him want to compete for real as soon as possible, not just in the local competitions for kids.

A sharp intake of breath next to him alerts him to the fact that Yuuri is now standing still, waiting for the music to start. The TV screen above them shows a close-up of his downturned face, arms stretched slightly behind him. He looks calm, but Yuri still holds his breath. When his dad reaches out to hold his hand he doesn’t even shake it off, only squeezing back as the first notes of _On Love: Agape_ filters through the speakers.

As soon as it does, Yuuri lifts one arm above his head before letting it fall down again, hand tracing the line of his jaw before he makes a smooth little spin, followed by pushing his arms up behind his bent back as if mimicking wings.

Yuri knows these movements, has tried to replicate them dozens of times before his dad deemed them smooth enough to record.

“Dad!” he gasps, gripping his hand with both of his own, wide-eyed and so excited he almost jumps out of his seat. “Dad, he’s doing it, he’s skating your program!”

“Oh,” is all Viktor says, but Yuri is too busy watching Yuuri to care.

The first jump is a triple axel, and Yuuri does it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

(It isn’t. Yuri has tried.)

After that comes a short sequence that isn’t theirs, but still much more beautiful than last time he watched it. The flying sit spin has Yuri squeezing his dad’s hand again, because when Yuuri exits it he launches into a complicated series of steps that are _definitely_ theirs, his body moving gracefully in tune with the music. Yuri can’t take his eyes off him, knowing those steps weren’t nearly as awe-inspiring when he did them himself.

There’s a moment where Yuuri looks like he’s about to stumble, but he quickly rights himself and switches to his old routine for a piece of choreography that used to look out of place but is now performed slower, more _intense_ , and then Yuuri runs his hands around his chest like Viktor practiced a million times over before he was satisfied with the flow.

When Yuuri does it, it looks natural.

He thinks, _this person knows my name, this person saw me skate this and decided it was good enough_.

There’s a lump in his throat now, thick and heavy, and he almost chokes on it when Yuuri launches into his quadruple Salchow, triple toe loop combination.

He makes this one, too, but stumbles just a little on the landing. Yuri doesn’t care. It was _perfect_ , and he furiously blinks away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes because Yuuri isn’t even doing their routine at the moment, using his old one until the final jump.

If you look really closely, you can sense that it doesn’t precisely fit with the previous sequences, but all those thoughts disappear once Yuuri nails the quadruple toe loop because he follows it up with their intricate steps and turns that lead into the Ina Bauer, and Yuri struggles to breathe.

“He’s really doing it,” he forces out, huddling closer to his dad and wondering if he’s dreaming.

The final combination spin seems to last for eternity, Yuuri’s dark blue and silver costume shimmering under the spotlights. One day, he’ll skate like this, too. He wants Yuuri to watch him and feel as breathless as he feels now…

When Yuuri lifts his clasped hands into the air to signal the end of his program he hops onto his seat and cheers at the top of his lungs.

He’s not the only one standing. The whole arena is up on their feet, Japanese flags waving everywhere, Yuuri’s name chanted and screamed and the man on the ice looks overwhelmed for a minute. The TV screen shows him drawing ragged breaths, eyes round and blinking at the world around him as if seeing it for the first time. Then he smiles, laughs a little before skating forwards, bowing and waving and picking up a huge plushie that looks like Makkachin.

His coach holds out the Makkachin napkin holder for him, and Yuri still grins with pride that he uses it, the first gift they ever gave him. Since then they always wait until afterwards to give him a gift, but they usually throw flowers on the ice. Remembering the bouquet they brought, he looks down at his dad’s feet where they still lie and turns to glare at Viktor for not throwing them (since Yuri can’t throw as far) but stops short at the sight of him.

“Um, dad?” he asks carefully, stepping off his seat to see underneath the curtain of hair obscuring his face again.

Viktor had apparently remained sitting, and now he looks frozen in time. His eyes are blown wide, his mouth open in disbelief, and Yuri almost worries he isn’t breathing.

“Dad, he finished skating,” he says, waving a hand in front of his face, and miraculously that seems to do the trick.

His dad snaps his mouth shut, straightening up in his seat before grabbing the flowers and his bag carelessly.

“Let’s go,” he orders, taking a hold of Yuri’s hand and all but dragging him towards the end of the row, not even bothering to apologize to the people he almost steps on along the way.

“Dad, there’s lots of skaters left, we can’t- _Dad!_ ”

When his dad speaks again, it’s into his phone, Yuri completely ignored.

“Yakov,” he says, sounding almost strangled, “you need to let me in to see Yuuri. No, it can’t wait. I don’t care that Georgi is skating soon, I _need_ to see him!”

There’s more arguing, but Yuri is too shocked to really absorb the words. His dad looks almost _angry_ , clutching his hand as if thinking Yuri would run off any second like when he was little. They speed down the stairs, into the corridors outside and heading towards the lobby. Somehow it seems his dad managed to convince Yakov, because he doesn’t slow down until they reach the doors leading to the skaters’ area.

“The scores,” Yuri pipes up, pointing towards a screen in the lobby showing Yuuri in the kiss and cry, still breathing hard and wiping sweat off his forehead.

They both stare at the screen in silence, watching Yuuri nod along to whatever Celestino is gesticulating at him for. Probably for changing his program at the last minute, but Yuuri doesn’t look the least bit upset. He drinks from his water bottle, sweeps his eyes over the audience, smiles at the camera. He looks much less nervous than usual, and Yuri wonders if it’s because his dad is so good at choreographing that he knows he’ll get a good score.

 He hasn’t even tweeted about this yet, but somehow he can’t bring himself to take out his phone when his dad is acting so weird. He’s tapping his foot impatiently, glancing at the staff guarding the door and cursing Yakov for being so slow.

When the score is announced, Yuri jumps high and brings his unoccupied fist down in a victory gesture.

“Yes! I told you it was a good idea to give him the choreography!”

Yuuri scored 98 points, not a personal best but definitely better than most other skaters have ever managed. His dad doesn’t reply, only stares at the screen with a strange look, like he can’t believe what just happened.

“Viktor! Get over here before I change my mind!”

Yakov is standing in the doorway, yelling loud enough to frighten the poor woman guarding it. Once again Yuri is dragged by the hand, sneaking a glance at the woman, though she doesn’t object when they enter. If Yuri had known his dad could get them down into the secret rooms where the skaters warm up he would have begged him to take him there much earlier. As it is he stares at everything to the point of stumbling, though there isn’t much to see. Just more corridors and rooms here and there, until they reach what looks to be a main room. There’s reporters and camera men, and a few skaters. One is being interviewed, a Spanish guy making his debut. Yuri remembers he skated first, but his score wasn’t even close to Yuuri’s.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Yakov warns them, leaving them to their own devices.

Yuri figures it’s time for the second skater group to warm up soon, since Yuuri was last out of the six in the first group. They get a few curious glances, but one of the Russian pair skaters waves as she hurries through the room.

“Where’s Yuuri?” he complains, tugging at his dad’s hand.

“He should be here soon,” is the not so reassuring reply he gets, because his dad runs a shaky hand through his hair and seems to have trouble breathing even now.

“He should be here _now_ ,” he complains, but as soon as the words leave him Yuuri enters through the corridor leading to the rink, followed by a swarm of reporters.

Yuri doesn’t care, slipping his hand out of his dad’s hold with expert ease, and dashes towards him.

“Yuuri!” he yells, jumping into his arms.

He’s almost dropped, but then Yuuri takes a step backwards for balance and stares at him in surprise.

“Yuri? What are you doing here?”

“You skated our program! So dad called Yakov to get us in here! But he’s being weird.”

“Weird?” Yuuri asks, blinking in confusion and leaning to the side to look at Viktor.

“Yuuri, you were so cool!” He tugs at Yuuri’s jacket, managing to return his attention to him. “I mean you’re always cool but this was the coolest!”

He’s got his legs and arms wrapped around Yuuri like an octopus, but the skater doesn’t try to put him down. Instead he smiles at him, squeezing him just a little.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Yuuri says, glancing towards his dad again. “I was really happy that you worked so hard for me, Yuri.”

“W-well we just wanted you to be happy again!” He can feel the furious blush on his cheeks at the praise, and he rubs at them angrily. “You are happier, right?”

Yuuri smiles again, eyes glittering.

“I’m very happy,” he says, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his temple. “Thank you, Yuri.”

Even through his daze, Yuri can hear the clicks of multiple camera shutters. When he turns, he realizes that he just jumped Yuuri in front of _the whole press_ , and he gasps before hiding his face in Yuuri’s collar.

“I have to talk to the reporters, could you wait a little bit with your dad? And then we can go watch Phichit together, if you want?”

He nods, sliding down when Yuuri loosens his grip. With an encouraging push from Yuuri he runs back to his dad, hiding behind him and peeking at Yuuri turning to face all the reporters waiting for him. It takes him a minute to realize his dad is frozen _again_ , and he viciously pokes him in the side.

“Ow, Yura!”

Rubbing the sore spot, his dad tries to twist his body to get a good look on him.

“Yuuri told us to wait a bit for him,” he hurries to say, hoping his dad won’t scold him for pretty much crashing into Yuuri earlier.

“Oh. Okay.”

Yuri waits for something more, but it’s all his dad says as he keeps staring at Yuuri with that strange look in his eyes again.

“Dad, you’re staring,” he whispers, and Viktor’s entire face blooms red before he drags them to the side of the room, sitting down in a couple of chairs against the wall. “I can walk on my own,” he complains, but all he receives is a pained look, the kind that’s usually followed by his dad moaning over how he’s too young to understand the troubles of adults.

Well, it doesn’t matter, because he’s backstage at a skating competition and his idol is happy and wants to watch his friend skate together with them, and Yuri is totally having the _best_ day of his life.

♡♡♡

“Skater Katsuki, what was the reason for changing your program components?”

“Who was the child? Is he related to the man with flowers waiting for you?”

“Mr. Katsuki, does this have something to do with the surprise that was mentioned on Mr. Chulanont’s instagram account yesterday?”

The moment Yuuri had turned towards the reporters again he’d been barraged with questions, all of them either about his changed program or Yuri and Viktor. Honestly, Yuuri had tried to think of what he would tell the press, but just thinking about it had been enough to set off a bad case of nerves which instead made him mostly ignore the issue. He could have screwed up, after all, and he hadn’t wanted to jinx it.

The problem is just that now he has no idea of how to explain himself. The truth is too personal, even though Viktor is the official choreographer for the Russian team-

Oh god. Was Viktor going to get in trouble with the Russian skating federation over this? Should he just not tell anyone who helped him? But surely Viktor wouldn’t ask him to use it as he liked if he would end up in trouble…

“Mr. Katsuki?”

“Y-yes?”

“The whole world wants to know what prompted this change in your routine!”

Crap, he’d forgotten to answer, too caught up in his mind. He doubted the whole world was really interested, but Celestino always told him to be more open with the press. _Your fans want to know who you are, Yuuri!_ This was usually followed by him being forced into interviews, or worse, recordings for news broadcasts and TV shows.

“I…” He swallows, drawing in a deep breath. Talking to reporters was never his forte, and he always seems to make a fool of himself somehow. He doesn’t want to mess up when it was thanks to Viktor that they are all so eager to talk to him…

Glancing at the man, he notices that Viktor is still staring at him, though sitting down with Yuri now. He’s holding the flowers in a tight grasp, a beautiful arrangement of white and red to represent the Japanese flag.

Actually… if Viktor didn’t want things out in the open, rushing over to see him right afterwards with a bouquet like that was the opposite of smart.

Tearing his gaze back to the crowd of reporters, Yuuri clears his throat and focuses on how happy and exhilarated he had felt after completing the whole program.

“During Skate Canada I felt that the program I had was good, but not enough to convey my theme. I wanted to put more emphasis on the step sequences, and…” he fumbles for a way to bring Viktor into the conversation, to casually mention that he’d stolen the Russian choreographer for Japan.

Maybe he should have talked to Celestino first, after all.

“Your coach looked very upset as he watched you skate, were you not supposed to use your new choreography yet?”

Yuuri forces himself to not make a face at the question. Trust the American reporter to pick up on that.

“It’s not entirely finished yet,” he admits, wincing when this brings around another wave of questions.

He wants to finish quickly so he can go watch Phichit, but it doesn’t seem like they will let him go easily unless he gives them what they want.

“Skater Katsuki, did you ask your choreographer to change it or did you go to a different one? It seems very different from the original.”

The question comes from a Japanese reporter, phrased politely in his mother tongue. He blinks at her, a solution to all his problems (maybe) forming tentatively.

“Yes. I mean, I used a different choreographer this time, but it ended up mixed today.”

“A different choreographer? Who?”

This time it’s asked in English, and Yuuri glances at the man responsible for all of this again, trying not to squint without his glasses.

“I asked Viktor Nikiforov to-“

“Nikiforov? The Russian choreographer?”

Thanking his lucky star that all the Russian reporters are busy watching Georgi during his warm-up, Yuuri nods.

“We’ve known each other for a while, so when I saw that he choreographed for Georgi I asked him for help.”

It’s probably much safer if everyone thinks that Viktor was commissioned, rather than cheating on the Russian team with Yuuri.

Oh god, that sounded really wrong. He fights down the blush threatening to take over at the thought of doing _anything_ with Viktor that isn’t strictly platonic, smoothing down his slicked-back hair that’s starting to fall apart again.

“And-“ The American reporter sends a meaningful glance towards Viktor (who is still staring at him, not even trying to be subtle about it), causing Yuuri to tense up. “Isn’t that Mr. Nikiforov over there?”

“I, um, yes?”

“Interesting,” is all the reporter says, which is definitely not what Yuuri was aiming for.

“It’s nothing, really! I just didn’t tell him I would be skating his choreography already so he’s probably just here to comment on it, I mean-“

He stops himself, wincing for real this time. Celestino would kill him if there is some kind of drama after this, his coach already yelled at him so much. What if he really is angry, and not just shocked? As unappealing as the thought is, there is a part of Yuuri that refuses to regret his choice. Skating Viktor’s choreography had felt amazing, and for once he can’t feel bothered with the mistakes he did during it. He’ll have to perfect it for the final, but for now he’s just in awe over how much he’d enjoyed it.

He wants to do it again, right now, can’t wait to start working on the free skate for tomorrow.

“I decided to try it out on my own,” he finishes, fiddling with his credentials.

“Will you perform a new free skate tomorrow? Or is it only the short program that has changed?”

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek, knowing he shouldn’t, _really_ shouldn’t, but he decides to be selfish this time. He _wants_ to change it, even with the lack of time.

“I’ll be doing a few changes,” he replies, smiling with much more confidence than he feels. “I’m planning on skating the full programs in the final, if I make it there.”

“Was this a recent decision?”

He smiles again, like he’s practiced a hundred times to make sure he doesn’t come off as too anxious on camera.

“It was,” he tells them, holding up a hand when they shower him with questions again. “I’m very sorry, but I’m needed at the rink, so if you’ll excuse me…”

He somehow manages to sneak away from them, as clumsy as he is while still wearing his skates. Approaching Viktor, he doesn’t know where to look. It’s almost unreal, to see them here behind the scenes waiting for him, Yuri beaming as bright as possible and Viktor clutching the bouquet like his life depends on it.

Heart in his throat, Yuuri bites his lips as he stops in front of them.

“So, um, should we go watch Phichit and the others? I think Georgi is up first, right?”

Viktor stares at him, his blue eyes wide, and Yuuri feels a small shiver of _something_ running up his spine.

“Marry me,” falls from Viktor’s lips in a rush, and Yuuri thinks his soul might be leaving his body.

“W-what?” he croaks out, wobbling on his feet.

“I meant!” Viktor corrects himself, voice loud as he stands up and pushes the flowers in Yuuri’s face. “That you skated so beautifully that everyone watching would want to marry you! Yes! That’s exactly what I meant!”

“Oh, o-okay,” Yuuri stammers out over the pounding of his poor heart, accepting the flowers hesitantly.

“Here!” little Yuri exclaims, holding out a wrapped gift towards him. “Everything looked _so_ much cooler when you did it! Like you moved your arms like this, and then you stepped so fast like _amazing_!”

Yuuri smiles at him (much safer than looking at Viktor) and takes the gift, holding it and the flowers with one hand and using the other to shakily comb through his hair, probably messing it up even worse.

“Hopefully I can do it better with some more practice,” he says, glancing at Viktor who looks… _starstruck,_ really, which doesn’t make any sense.

“You want to do it again?” Viktor asks, breathless and eager, and Yuuri can’t help the way his face heats up.

“If you’ll let me,” he mumbles, causing both father and son to nod so hard that Yuuri fears they’ll get whiplash.

“What about the free skate?” Yuri asks, and Yuuri glances worriedly around them.

He doesn’t want people to know that he hasn’t even _practiced_ the new choreography for it yet.

“Let’s go watch the others first, and talk about it later?”

When they nod he turns towards the rink again, hoping the reporters have all found something else to busy themselves with. He lets out a small, relieved sigh when it seems they have, though he knows it’s only because they’ll get as much time as they want once all the skaters have finished.

“It’s this way,” he adds, and leads them up to the seats reserved for participants after a small detour to pick up his shoes and glasses.

Viktor is silent the entire way, but thankfully Yuri talks so fast he can barely keep up, losing grammar and adding Russian words in his excitement. They find seats nearby some ice dancers that Yuuri vaguely recognizes, feeling terrible when they congratulate him on his score and he can’t even remember which country they’re from.

“How long until Georgi?” Yuri asks, practically jumping up and down in his seat. “I want to see him just _try_ to beat your points, I mean you’re going to win obviously, so he’ll probably cry!”

“Yura, be nice,” Viktor scolds him, but it sounds distracted.

Yuuri can feel his eyes lingering on him as he forces his gaze straight ahead, nerves prickling underneath his skin. He’s glad that Yuri sits between them, a barrier keeping him from entertaining the thought of leaning in close, close enough to whisper into his ear.

_Do you ask everyone skating your choreography to marry you?_

But he can’t ask.

Not unless he wants to die from embarrassment, and he can only imagine the headlines.

“It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes,” he says instead, tapping his fingers against the cutely wrapped box he still hasn’t opened. “And I haven’t won yet, you know.”

“But you probably will,” Viktor disagrees, and Yuuri makes the mistake of turning to face him.

His eyes are shining, lips turned up at the corners, and it feels like crash-landing on the ice except he kind of wants to do it again and again. He opens his mouth to reply, to deny the assumption that he will because there’s still six more skaters left –not to mention the free skate tomorrow– but his throat seems to have shriveled up somewhere between parting his lips and trying to form the words.

There’s a part of him that doesn’t _want_ to deny it, whether it ends up true or not. To have Viktor look at him like this, so _sure_ that Yuuri is unbeatable, is nothing short of a guilty pleasure. He can’t look away, can’t help wondering, if maybe, _maybe_ , Viktor finds him even a tiny bit as captivating as he is to Yuuri.

“There he is!” Yuri shouts, slapping both their thighs, and Yuuri reluctantly tears his gaze away to watch Georgi take to the ice.

He claps his hands with the rest of the audience, swallowing down the fear that the Russian skater will beat his score. Even though he was prepared for a lower one than he got, he doesn’t want to give up his lead now that he has it. Not when it means having Viktor’s attention, not when it could mean Viktor helping him practice for the free skate…

There’s a sudden warmth wrapping around his neck, and when Viktor leans close to him he realizes it’s Viktor’s arm, pulling him in until he can feel hot breath washing over his ear.

“Yuuri,” Viktor mumbles, soft and warm and Yuuri _shivers_. “What are you going to do about the free skate?”

“I…” Yuuri wets his lips, fingertips digging into the gift box , telling himself _no,_ you _can’t_ look at Viktor because god knows what you’ll do. “I want to add some of your choreography but I haven’t had time to practice it yet.”

He’s rather proud of how steady his voice is, blood rushing to his cheeks as Viktor hums and he’s _so close_.

“O-kay,” Viktor says, dragging the word out and squeezing Yuuri’s bicep. “We have plenty of time to figure it out.”

Holding his breath, Yuuri glances down at the child on the seat between them. Luckily (or not) he’s leaning forwards, allowing Viktor the room he needs to latch onto Yuuri like this. Yuri is on his phone, alternating between furiously typing and watching Georgi.

(Yuuri hadn’t even noticed that Georgi started. He should feel bad, but-)

“I really want to see you skate my choreography again,” Viktor purrs into his ear, and this time the shiver making its way down Yuuri’s spine is shamefully obvious. “I know I shouldn’t be partial, but when you skate it’s just…”

Viktor trails off, and Yuuri tries not to hyperventilate. It’s just that Viktor is _right there_ , the scent of his cologne assaulting Yuuri’s nostrils, his body heat seeping into Yuuri in the otherwise chilly arena. He wants to lean in, place his head on Viktor’s shoulder and simply _indulge_ , but he’s barely allowed himself the thought and is halfway through a panicked _oh my god what if he could read my thoughts just now_ when Yuri straightens up and all but knocks into them.

“Did you _see_ that!?” he yells, much too loud and angry for a public setting.

When neither Viktor nor Yuuri reply, he twists in his seat to glare up at them.

“Sorry, I missed it. What happened?” Yuuri fumbles over the words, too aware of Viktor’s arm still lingering over his shoulders.

“He changed his triple into a quad, I mean, does he think he can beat you?”

Startled, Yuuri sends a look in Viktor’s direction, but the other man merely taps a finger against his lips as his gaze trails after Georgi on the ice.

“That’s… the point?” Yuuri clears his throat and shifts slightly, Viktor’s arm slipping down to the back of his seat but not precisely ceasing contact. “It’s a competition.”

Yuri gives him another glare and an eye-roll, muttering under his breath. He thinks he can make out a few curses in English, and while he still doesn’t understand why he’s so upset it’s undeniably sweet.

“Thank you for cheering me on, Yuri,” he adds, and the boy ducks his head back down, clutching his phone.

“N-nothing,” he mumbles back, squirming around until Viktor’s ruffles his hair and _finally_ lets Yuuri breathe as he moves his arm.

“ _It’s_ nothing, Yura,” Viktor informs him. “You forgot half the sentence. But! It isn’t nothing, really, it’s a _pleasure_ to cheer for you, Yuuri~ We’re your biggest fans, after all!”

Viktor beams at him, and Yuuri is torn between elation and a sinking feeling in his chest.

(Elation, because Viktor says it like it really _is_ a pleasure.)

(Heaviness, because they’re _fans_ , and Yuuri is a silly daydreamer who embarrasses even himself.)

“That’s… thank you, really,” he says, feeling all sorts of lame and awkward, but there’s a touch to his chin and all of a sudden he’s staring into Viktor’s eyes, caught in depths of icy blue and trying desperately not to let his own eyes drop down to the pretty bow of Viktor’s lips.

Viktor is too close again. His fingers are touching Yuuri’s skin, feather light and sliding up his jaw.

There are no words to accurately describe how time stills in that moment, how his breath catches in his lungs, how his heart back-flips out of his ribcage.

Just.

No words.

(Viktor moves a tiny bit closer.)

“One thing is true, though,” Viktor tells him, pushing back some of Yuuri’s hair from his forehead. “When you skate like that, no one can beat you. Only you can create music that is louder than the speakers.”

It doesn’t make sense, what he says, but Yuuri is too far gone to notice properly. Some part of his mind registers that the audience is cheering, but whether it’s for a successful jump or the end of the program or fireworks shooting from the ceiling, well, he can’t tell.

Possibly the fireworks are entirely internal, fizzing through his veins and screeching through his ears as Viktor’s thumb traces his bottom lip, dragging slowly along the chapped skin before pushing it gently against his teeth.

“I know you will skate just as beautifully tomorrow,” Viktor murmurs, and he could have said anything, really, Yuuri would still have answered _yes_.

_Of course._

_Anything you want._

(But this is about skating, and Yuuri manages a shaky nod.)

When Viktor smiles at him his chest _aches_ , and he wants-

He can’t think about what he wants. It’s too much, too _real_ , and he averts his face to focus on the ice, red all the way to his ears.

He can’t read too much into this, he can’t, he _can’t_.

“Yuuri, take a selfie with me!”

It’s Yuri to the rescue, and after releasing a shuddering breath, glad he’s sitting down with such weak knees, Yuuri poses for the picture.

“I’ll post it to cheer for Phichit!” Yuri says, excitedly kicking his feet and tapping away at his phone.

Right. Phichit. His best friend. Phichit who is his best friend and has always been there for him in times of need.

Guilt nagging at him, Yuuri tries to focus on what the announcers are saying, following Phichit as he makes a loop around the ice. He’s smiling, but Yuuri can tell that he’s nervous. Biting his lips he thinks of how late Phichit stayed up with him, sacrificing sleep to help Yuuri practice his new routine. He’s done so much for him, and if anyone deserves to go the final, it’s Phichit for sure.

All Yuuri ever does is be negative and cause trouble for him.

“Are you worried?” Viktor asks, head tilted in question when Yuuri peeks at him.

“I just want him to do well,” he replies, a nervous knot forming in his stomach as Phichit gets into position. “He’s worked so hard, and even stayed up late to help me…”

Viktor is silent for a while, but then he raises one eyebrow and leans back a little.

“Hm, what’s this? Sounds like you’re not going to give it your all tomorrow.”

Blinking in surprise, Yuuri opens his mouth but closes it again, frowning at Viktor.

“I just hope he isn’t tired after helping me out, I mean I shouldn’t have asked him, but-“

“Yuuri.”

When he looks at Viktor, properly, he finds him watching Phichit with a calm expression.

“I don’t know Phichit that well, but, what do you think he would say if he heard you now?”

Oh.

Yuuri flushes with embarrassment, plucking at the ribbon decorating his gift. It’s a lovely shade of dark blue, matching his costume.

“He would say that I was being a silly little hamster,” he admits, sucking in a breath as Phichit’s music starts, an upbeat tune that draws out his strengths as a performer.

“A hamster?” Viktor echoes, confused at first, but then his lips twitch and he’s laughing, eyes crinkling with it.

Yuuri can’t help but laugh, too.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t worry,” he says, but he still holds his breath before every jump, still clenches his fists during the step sequences.

If Viktor notices, he doesn’t comment.

(But he does stare at Yuuri. A lot.)

♡♡♡

_[image]_

♥ **2,056 likes**

 **yuri-plisetsky** Cheering for **@phichit+chu** and **@IcePrinceGeorgi**!

#nhktrophy #yurikatsuki #phichitchulanont #georgipopovich #yuuridoesitbetter

_View all 231 comments_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo... at what point is it socially acceptable to propose because someone is just too beautiful? Anyway, Viktor totally cried bc Yurio didn't tag him in the post. Rip.  
> If anyone's confused, a post starting @yuri-plisetsky above the text is supposed to be twitter, if it only starts with yuri-plisetsky like at the end of this chapter it's supposed to be instagram. I say 'supposed' bc I suck at using both of my accounts haha... 
> 
> Will Viktor be able to keep his hands to himself as they practice for the free skate? Will he fire Yuuri's ballet instructor and appoint himself? Who knows! With Viktor, anything is possible. I love him. 
> 
> (Yurio totally has a huge following on insta. That child will go places.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are feelings please send help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would I be if I didn't ignore responsibilites to write instead of writing when I actually have the time? Not me, that's for sure.
> 
> I'm truly happy about the amazing response this fic has been getting from you readers, you are all wonderful and I wish I could update more often. Love and hugs to you! Though I'm almost scared to keep writing because I want to live up to expectation haha. 
> 
> A few of you expressed concerns over this fic possibly containing angst, but rest assured that it will not! Maybe some heart-squeezing moments, but I mean, there's a slow burn tag for a reason lol. 
> 
> I definitely don't speak Russian but I was told that the proper spelling for Yurio's nickname is Yurochka, not Yuratchka, so I used that in this chapter. If anyone knows better, please let me know. 
> 
> Anyway throughout most of this chapter I kept imagining Viktor's brain playing a certain song on repeat because it's ridiculously fitting. Have you ever imagined five handsome men dressed in classy suits walking and dancing on travelators on stage (think a treadmill but no handles and stuff) as if they were catwalk models, stroking their own hair like in shampoo commercials, insisting they "can't go on 'cause you look too frickin beautiful"? Well, imagine no more! Sweden is sending precisely that to Eurovision this year. It's truly amazing. If you don't believe me, type in "Robin Bengtsson I can't go on - Eurovision 2017" on youtube and feast your eyes on a performance so extra it's (almost) worthy of Viktor. 
> 
> Sorry I just had to squeeze in Eurovision there. Let's focus on Yuuri and Viktor instead;)

The free skate is easier, in a way. There are a lot of turns, lots of gliding back and forth across the ice, but it’s not as fast-paced as the short program. Of course, it’s longer and has more jumps, more difficult entries into them.

If Yuuri had a week, or at least three days of non-stop skating, he probably could have changed the entire program to fit with Viktor’s choreography. As it is, he has to resign himself to what is possible.

Unfortunately, his version of possible does not coincide with Celestino’s.

“Yuuri, please be reasonable. Even with your stamina, you need proper rest to recover from the short program!”

Celestino gesticulates a lot when he talks, his voice loud and booming no matter the emotion behind it. It used to intimidate Yuuri in the beginning, but now he taps a foot impatiently against the floor and tries to come up with a way to assure Celestino that he _is_ being reasonable.

“I’m fine, really. Dancing doesn’t tire me out much, anyway.”

“Phichit told me you barely slept the past two days.”

Yuuri makes a mental note to have a talk, _again_ , with Phichit about telling on him over concern of his health. It seems no matter what he does, the other two will always team up against him when it comes to things like telling him he’s ‘over-working’ himself.

“I’ll sleep early,” he says, but knows he won’t.

Celestino, of course, picks up on the lie easily. Sighing deeply, he runs a hand through his thick, long hair and frowns at Yuuri.

“I won’t disappoint,” he adds, squirming now.

“It’s not about disappointing anyone, Yuuri. You know that. I’m just worried you’re trying to push yourself too far. I honestly have no idea how you managed to pull off your short program so well but you _did_ , and you got a great score so if you just stick to the original choreography you’ll definitely win-“

“It’s not about winning.”

It comes out harsher than intended, and Yuuri’s heart pounds in his chest when his mouth won’t open to take it back. They’re alone at the moment, tucked away in one of the countless corridors hidden underneath the arena. It’s a good thing they are, because Yuuri kind of already told Viktor which parts of the free skate he wants to change, and he’s not going to change his mind on that. Still, he doesn’t like arguing with Celestino, even if his coach encourages it compared to letting his feelings accumulate until worse things happen.

Right now, Yuuri just wants to be over and done with this discussion. But how do you tell your coach that it’s more important to impress a man you may or may not have a small crush on than to make it to the final? It’s a stupid reason, terrible even. Yuuri is still in the lead after all the skaters have performed, and honestly he isn’t sure himself how he managed to pull it off (then again, he rarely is). Phichit had suggested that Yuuri _thrives on the power of love_ , and honestly if that wasn’t more embarrassing than anything he’s ever heard before…

“Then what is it about?” Celestino asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as if he isn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

“I just want to do this, please?”

“Yuuri, I think you’ve been avoiding this talk since the beginning of summer. I’m not a mind reader, but I haven’t seen you skate with this much passion in months.”

When Yuuri keeps his lips pressed firmly together, Celestino stares at him in silence for a moment. It isn’t something he can explain, forgetting about his passion for skating and finding it again in Viktor’s choreography. Maybe it’s the countless hours he spent copying Viktor’s dancing, or maybe even the hours he spent practicing after hours, translating Viktor’s ballet into step sequences. The choreography for his free skate feels familiar even though he never skated it before, in the way that he can recognize Viktor in it.

It was the same for the short program – it _breathed_ Viktor, and Yuuri, over the past months, has grown used to finding solace in the way he moves.

“I support your decision to change the choreography, Yuuri, I do! But you don’t even have twenty-four hours to do it, and I don’t want to see you end up in an accident because you stayed up dancing three nights in a row.”

He has a point, obviously. Yuuri _is_ tired, because _Agape_ is not an easy program even in its original form.

“I kind of mentioned in an interview that I already plan on using some of the new parts, though…”

Celestino looks exasperated, torn between conflicting emotions, and ends up spreading his arms in a half-shrug, signaling that he has mostly given up.

“It’s not like you to argue this much, Yuuri,” he says, but there’s laughter at the end of it. “You can change _one_ sequence between jumps, and we’ll go through it properly at the practice tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees, but it probably shows that he isn’t entirely happy with it because Celestino claps his back and shakes his head at him.

“Give them a teaser, alright? And then we’ll need two weeks of grueling practice if you want to get it all perfect for the final. It’s just your luck to get the NHK assigned this year, huh?”

“It’ll work out.” Yuuri clenches his fists inside the pockets of his jacket, fingers curling around the phone where Viktor’s number waits for him to call once he’s done.

“Hm, well. As long as you feel better about it than you did at Skate Canada.”

Showing a weak smile, Yuuri apologizes for the hundredth time that he spent two weeks skating figures instead of practicing his programs and jumps after the competition. Celestino waves the apology off, finally allowing Yuuri to escape after promising to sleep at a decent time.

“I’ll have Phichit come by and check on you!” Celestino calls after him as Yuuri heads towards the locker room, and he heaves a sigh of relief once he leaves to have dinner with a few of the other coaches.

Yuuri just wants to grab his stuff and then meet up with Viktor so they can start practicing. Maybe buy some coffee on the way, too.

When he enters the men’s changing room it isn’t empty like he expected it to be. Several of his competition is there – Phichit, of course, but also Chris, Michele, Leo, and Guang Hong. They’re crowded in a half-circle by one of the benches lined along the walls, their attention held by the child sitting down and waving his phone around. Over by a corner he finds Georgi as well, carefully fixing his hair in a mirror.

“Yuuri’s back!” Phichit grins at him, excitedly waving him closer as the others turn to greet him. “What did Ciao Ciao say?”

“Ah, well-“

“Yuuri~ You didn’t tell me your secret to winning all these years was having a cute little fan!” Chris slings an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders as he reaches them, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “You don’t mind sharing him, do you?”

“Ha!” Yuri says, crossing his arms and leaning back against the lockers behind him. “I’m _only_ Yuuri’s fan.”

“Aah-ah,” Chris sighs, “mon cœur, I’m heartbroken! He insists that none of us are good enough!”

“He didn’t say it like that,” Leo argues with an apologetic little laugh. “Hello, Yuuri. I really liked what you did to your short program. We were all really surprised!”

Yuuri manages a small smile, mumbling his thanks. He’s met Leo before, but Phichit is the one who’s really friends with him since they competed in Juniors together.

“I wasn’t,” Michele tells them, his tone making Yuuri involuntarily take a step closer to Chris. If Chris is the _senpai_ Yuuri has always somehow gotten along with (maybe a little too well, once the alcohol started flowing) then Michele is the very opposite. “Mila figured it out already so I was more surprised that there weren’t more changes.”

“What, Mila?!” Yuri adds a long string of Russian, to which Georgi replies in kind from his corner.

When everyone launches into a discussion on Yuuri’s half-new program, all Yuuri wants is to leave. He tries not to fidget, folding his fingers into the cuffs of his jacket, staring at a fixed spot on the floor.  If he’s honest with himself, he really is exhausted. Loud voices aren’t helping, especially not when they argue about his skating. The moment Chris’ arm slips from his shoulders he ducks away, finding his locker and trying to discreetly pull on his coat and gather his things. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to talk to them, but he’s still caught up in his free skate and how to solve the issue of his respective promises to Viktor and Celestino.

He also doesn’t know Guang Hong, who is making his senior debut this year if he remembers correctly, and can’t help but be too aware of Georgi’s presence since he may or may not resent him for letting Viktor choreograph for a competitor. _Especially_ since Viktor apparently knows Yakov personally? Yuuri really doesn’t want to get on Yakov’s bad side, since he is not only a very intimidating man but also knows a lot of people in the ISU.

…he really needs to have that talk with Viktor to make sure there’s no problem with him choreographing for Yuuri. So far no one has come to tell him he’s disqualified and surely Celestino wouldn’t have approved if there was a problem, but Yuuri can’t shake the feeling that the Russian skating federation will put a curse on him or something. Yakov didn’t exactly look pleased when they bumped into him after watching the final skater and told Viktor he wanted to have a word with him.

“Yuuri? Yuuri!”

Startled by Phichit’s hand on his arm, he realizes that he’s been staring into his empty locker for who knows how long.

“Sorry, Phichit, what did you say?”

“Dad texted me that he’s done,” Yuri answers in Phichit’s stead, hopping off the bench and coming over to them.

“Oh. Is everything, umm, is everything okay?”

Yuri blinks up at him, confused.

“With Yakov I mean. He wasn’t angry?”

At this Yuri shrugs, pushing his phone into a pocket in the very big and very fluffy coat he’s wearing.

“He is always angry, he says dad gives him, what is it called, when your stomach hurts?”

“Ulcers?” Leo suggests, and Yuuri almost jumps high.

He hadn’t noticed that the others were listening in on them, forgetting they were there in the first place.

“Yeah, something,” Yuri agrees, shrugging again before sniffling loudly.

Yuuri remembers that he’s sick, and really shouldn’t be hanging around the other skaters. What if they catch his cold? What if Yuri’s cold gets worse because he spent the day at an ice rink??

“Yuuri.” Phichit’s voice is soft, his dark brown eyes asking a silent question as he squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder. “Let’s go?”

“Yes.” _Please_ he doesn’t add, but it seems Phichit finally picked up on his frayed nerves.

 “Yuuri, you’re not joining us for dinner?” Chris asks, pouting a little. “I wanted to toast to us being in first and second place!”

“You can toast at the afterparty tomorrow,” Phichit waves him off with, and Yuuri winces at the amused glint in Chris’ eyes at the words.

He really doesn’t need Phichit to find out what a terrible influence Chris has on him at parties. If anything, the two of them would team up, and Yuuri would probably never recover.

“Let’s go,” Michele huffs at them. “I need to find Sara before some creep sees her and tries anything.”

Yuuri lets him and Georgi exit first, taking hold of Yuri’s hand and nervously steering him through the corridors towards the lobby. Viktor didn’t seem to mind that Yuri had gone with them instead of staying with his dad, but he is still a _child_ and Yuuri has no idea what potentially scarring things Chris might have uttered in his presence.

“Leo said he thinks I’m good enough for Juniors soon.”

“Oh?” Not what he expected Yuri to say, but certainly better than he feared.

“I showed them the video when I skated your short program. But _not_ the free skate because that’s a secret!”

It’s impossible not to smile when Yuri looks so serious, like a baby tiger wrapped up in a bright red duvet. He’s holding on to Yuuri’s hand with a tight grip, reluctant to let go even when he needs to blow his nose.

“I’ll definitely cheer for you when you start competing,” Yuuri promises, and Yuri looks at him a little hesitantly, like there’s something he wants to ask but doesn’t know how to. “But you still have two years left until then, right?”

“Yes, but-“

“Yuuri! We forgot to take pictures!”

First of all, Phichit never _forgets_ about taking pictures. He takes them, all the time, whether Yuuri is aware of it or not. When he pauses and turns back with eyebrows raised in what he believes is a justified look of disbelief, Phichit merely waves a hand towards Guang Hong.

 “It’s Guang Hong’s debut, he needs a photo with you! It’s good luck for the free skate!”

Yuuri is pretty sure that Phichit decided that on his own, right now, but Guang Hong looks so flustered that Yuuri can’t help but take pity on him.

“In the corridor?” he asks as Chris bounds back to them, having gone ahead earlier but now also dragging Georgi back with him at the prospect of taking photos.

“Triple the luck with the three top skaters!” Chris declares, and Georgi‘s smile is rather smug.

“Well, if it’s for luck then I won’t mind,” Georgi adds, clapping Guang Hong on the back until the poor boy looks terrified. “I remember Yuuri’s first competition against me, he was such a tiny little thing! Almost cried when Chris talked to him at the draw.”

“Hmm, yes,” Chris muses, scratching at the short beard on his chin. “Skate America, wasn’t it? To think such a cute skater would surprise everyone and take silver at his Grand prix debut. It’s only a good memory because I won that time.”

“Chris…”

Georgi dries a fake tear, and Chris smiles indulgently at Yuuri.

“To think it’s been so long,” he drawls, “and look at you now! With your very own protégé!”

“It’s been _three years_ ,” Yuuri hisses, pretending he didn’t hear that last part (or Phichit’s snickering, for that matter).

At least now he doesn’t think he needs to worry about Georgi resenting him.

“Really? It feels longer,” Georgi sighs, and Yuuri sees from the corner of his eye how the other three skaters are hanging back just a little, as if giving respectful distance to their elders, while Michele seems to have vanished. “We’re getting old, Chris. Soon little Yura will take over, no?”

At the sound of his name, Yuri perks up. He steps closer to Yuuri, grabbing his arm and nodding fiercely at Georgi, who still manages to look dramatic even without his performance make-up.

“I’ll beat all of you. And break Yuuri’s records!”

“Ooh, I can’t wait!” Phichit stage whispers, and is that his phone directed at them or is Yuuri just being paranoid from too many secret vines recorded by his best friend in the past?

“We really should take those pictures now,” Yuuri reminds them, clearing his throat awkwardly because this is turning too much into an embarrassing trip down memory lane.

Hopefully Viktor won’t mind waiting a few minutes extra.

♡♡♡

Viktor tries not to let his impatience show as he leans against a wall in the rink’s lobby. He’s tapping at his phone, scanning social media for comments on Yuuri’s performance. Now that the initial shock has worn off, he’s happy to know that he wasn’t the only one who found Yuuri positively sparkling on the ice today. He is also, coincidentally, not the only one entertaining the idea of marrying him, it seems.

Well, as accidental as the question had been, Yuuri had blushed such a pretty shade of red and hadn’t even seemed bothered by it, so now Viktor knows he better keep a really tight leash on himself or things will only escalate from here. He might not have felt so strongly about someone before (not that he’s _in love_ or anything, of course not, he’s just - _enamored_ ) but if there’s one thing he has learnt about himself with old age it is that his brain doesn’t always keep up with his mouth. It causes him trouble sometimes, but there really hasn’t been much time for flirting since his son entered his life so it’s mostly been in other areas, such as conversations with Yuri’s teachers or his own students.

Viktor has never asked anyone to marry him before. He feels a little cheated that he couldn’t even enjoy the occasion properly.

Still, Yuuri seems to switch off his mouth-to-brain filter a lot easier than what’s probably appropriate. If he wants to be able to ask him to coach Yuri in the future, it’s a bad idea to make Yuuri believe that Viktor is some kind of shameless flirt who may or may not send prayers to heaven for the existence of the skater’s sweet behind.

He might _be_ one, but only when it comes to Yuuri, really. It doesn’t help that Yakov yelled at him for it, saying things like _you have no impulse control Vitya, I have no idea why Katsuki goes along with it_ and _I don’t know what’s worse, you doing whatever Yura wants or coming up with the ideas yourself!_

Oh, but his favorite was probably _do you even realize what you’ve done Vitya?! It’s bad enough you follow that Japanese boy around the world to watch him skate all the time, now I have to cover for your selfish ass and deal with the skating federation and what am I supposed to tell them, huh? That you put together a gold-winning routine for a competitor because you think he’s pretty?!_

Ah, Yakov, always seeing the worst in things. He hadn’t appreciated it when Viktor replied that actually, Yuuri isn’t just pretty, he’s _gorgeous_ and it really isn’t Viktor’s fault that he’s so perfect and deserving of better choreography. Maybe if Georgi skated his own routine like he was _supposed_ to they wouldn’t need to even have a discussion about it. A little petty perhaps, but Yakov won’t even _discuss_ Yura’s future skating career and Viktor thinks he has every right to say that he has no obligations whatsoever to the Russian skating teams.

So, now that he has successfully taken at least five years off Yakov’s life span (according to the man himself, at least) Viktor believes that he deserves some love from both the little Yuri and the big Yuuri, just to make sure his poor heart doesn’t receive any actual damage from Yakov’s terribly mean words.

But according to instagram, they’re stuck in some hallway taking group pictures. Viktor could cry.

“Mr. Nikiforov?”

When he looks up, there’s a woman holding a small voice recorder standing in front of him, butchering his name terribly.

“Yes?”

“I’m from the _International Figure Skating_ magazine, would you mind answering a few questions?”

Viktor has been interviewed before, certainly, though mainly in Russia or a long time ago when he still competed. To be interviewed here by a skating magazine must mean that it’s about Yuuri, and he’s sure Yakov would disapprove.

“Well, I suppose I don’t mind,” he says, flashing her a wide smile. “What would you like to know?”

She’s quick to turn on the recorder, expression brightening at his agreement.

“Everyone is very curious about the man behind Yuuri Katsuki’s new choreography, but you have choreographed for two Russian skaters as well, correct?”

“Yes, I’ve choreographed the short programs for Georgi and Mila.”

“And how long have you known Mr. Katsuki? He mentioned in an earlier interview that you two are friends.”

“Hmm, almost four years, I think it is? We first met at his debut at the Four Continents.”

“And how did you meet?”

Viktor has to blink at her for a moment, thinking back to the first time he saw Yuuri outside a computer screen. He had looked so lost that time in the park, so doe-eyed and innocent when he asked for Viktor’s name. Back then, Viktor hadn’t cared more than for the fact that Yuri liked this new skater sharing his name, but once he’d seen Yuuri dance across the ice with his own eyes he couldn’t stop thinking about the younger man for days. He’d been captivating, and that feeling only increased as the years passed.

“We… My son wanted to cheer for him because they have the same name, and we went to see the competition. He’s a huge figure skating fan, my son I mean. It’s his goal to beat all of Yuuri’s records in the future!”

“I see, so you talked to him after the competition or…?”

“Oh, actually, I ran into him before the short program. Which was good because then I could give him the napkin holder in person!”

The reporter’s eyes widen, and she eagerly leans closer to him.

“The poodle one? That he is always using?”

“That’s the one! I didn’t think he would like it so much that he’s kept it all this time, but it looks like our dog Makkachin.”

He can almost hear how fast her thoughts rush through her mind, mouth opening and closing several times with no sound coming out before she settles on her next question.

“And you’re here today because of the choreography you made?”

“We go to all of his competitions. We like to think we’re his biggest fans!”

Again, she seems to struggle with words, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You’re friends?”

“Yes, friends.”

“I liked the bouquet you brought for him, the one like the Japanese flag.”

“Oh, you saw that?” Viktor lets out an awkward laugh, brushing hair out of his face. “The flower shop attendant did a really good job.”

 “You two seem to be rather close friends.”

“I… He is an amazing person. I’m honored to be his friend.”

“After skating today, many people commented that he seemed much happier than usual. Is there a special arrangement surrounding the choreography? Any particular meaning behind it?”

“Well, no, I didn’t like the choreography he was using. Yuuri is beautiful on the ice and he deserves choreography that shows that. I wanted to give him a program that builds on his strengths.”

“Such as?”

 _Being so beautiful my knees go weak just thinking about it_.

“When he’s on the ice, it feels as if he makes the music himself, using his body. So I guess he’s best at being captivating. You know what I mean? It’s impossible to take your eyes off him. It’s like he’s dancing and it all looks so smooth, like… Well, you forget to breathe. But the choreography he had for this season wasn’t beautiful enough for him, so that was a problem.”

She stares at him, silent for so long that Viktor starts wondering if he said something weird. But then she clears her throat, lips twitching like she’s trying not to smile.

“I think all of his fans are thankful to you for fixing the problem, so we can expect something beautiful for the free skate as well?”

“Yuuri is always beautiful,” Viktor informs her with a frown. “So of course you can expect something beautiful tomorrow. But it isn’t finished yet so-“

“Papa!”

Viktor barely has time to brace himself before Yuri is clinging to him, tugging at his coat with excitement shining brightly in his eyes.

“Papa I showed them my skating!” he stage whispers in Russian. “They say I can definitely compete in Juniors soon! I just need to learn all the jumps and stuff! And! I held Yuuri’s hand and we took so many pictures! This is the best day of my life!”

All the excitement launches him into a smaller coughing fit, and Viktor immediately bends down to fuss over him. He probably shouldn’t have left him with Yuuri, but his puppy eyes had been too much when Viktor was called over by Yakov, and what was a little coughing and fever compared to pure happiness anyway?

“Take it easy, Yurochka,” he mumbles soothingly, rubbing his back underneath the winter coat. “We should get you back to the hotel and properly in bed.”

“Nooo,” Yuri protests weakly, “I want to help Yuuri practice!”

“You’ve already helped lots by skating for him.”

“If you don’t let me help I’ll never speak to you again!”

“Yura…” Despite knowing how empty the threat is, Viktor blanches a bit. “You really need to stop saying things like that. Think of your papa’s poor heart!”

Instead of replying, Yuri turns in his arms and looks up expectantly at someone else.

“You’ll let me help, right? Dad’s being mean to me.”

When Viktor follows his son’s gaze he should have been prepared to see Yuuri, but nope. The man is still as stunning as ever, giving them a nervous smile behind his glasses.

Those glasses should be illegal, _damn_.

“You have a cold, Yuri,” Yuuri reminds him, but his expression is more fond than anything else and Viktor can feel a tug at his heart, drinking in the way Yuuri says his son’s name so softly.

“I’m fine,” Yuri insists, stubbornly crossing his arms, and Viktor pulls him against his chest and ruffles his hair with a small laugh.

“A real fighter, huh? My little tiger! Let’s get you something to eat and see how tired you are after that.”

“I won’t be tired.”

Viktor places a kiss to his hair, making sure to smack his lips extra loud just to annoy him, and then stands up to face the other Yuuri. As unprepared as he is, he thinks he does a good job of playing it cool when he wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and herds both of them towards the exit.

“Ah- Mr. Nikiforov?”

Oh, right. He’d forgotten about the reporter.

“Sorry, can’t talk anymore!” he chirps, waving a few fingers at her before returning his attention to his two favorite people in the world. “Now, what should we have for dinner?”

Yuuri gives him a hesitant look, biting his lips and it’s oh so attractive- Viktor has to look away for a moment so he won’t pull Yuuri even closer.

“You, um, were you talking to that reporter earlier?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, she wanted to ask a few questions about the choreography.”

Concerned when Yuuri pales, Viktor squeezes his upper arm in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her any details about it.”

Yuuri doesn’t seem to believe him at first, but then draws in a deep breath and nods to himself.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I’m just a little- Celestino wants me to be more reasonable about the changes, so I don’t want the reporters to blow it up too much.”

“Reasonable, huh? Sounds boring.”

When Yuuri pauses mid-step, Viktor stops as well to look at him, surprise flickering across his face.

“Boring, well- Yes, I suppose it seems a little boring,” Yuuri mumbles, fidgeting with the strap to his gym bag. “He thinks I should play it safe to win.”

“You should win with _our_ choreography!” Yuri pipes up, stomping his foot imperiously.

“I- Yes,” Yuuri flounders, glancing at Viktor but quickly averting his eyes again, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “But it’s already getting late, there’s not much time.”

“Is there somewhere we could practice?” Viktor asks, bending forwards a little to properly see Yuuri’s face underneath his bangs. “You have the world’s best choreographer and ballet instructor at your service, it’ll be a piece of cake!”

Yuuri smiles at that, shyly with red creeping up his cheeks, and Viktor wants to squish those cheeks together and kiss his adorable lips.

“I thought Lilia Baranovskaya was the best,” he teases, mouth curling into an even sweeter smile.

Viktor huffs, flicking his hair dramatically.

“I don’t know where you got your information, but it is clearly _wrong_.”

“Hmm,” Yuuri hums, then drops into a crouch so that he’s face to face with Yuri, eyes glittering with mirth. “What do you say then, Yuri? Will you help me?”

It takes Viktor a moment to realize the absolute _burn_ Yuuri just gave him, but his son’s face lights up with such pure delight that he can’t bring himself to manage more than a weak _hey_ in objection.

“The hotel staff promised me I could use an empty conference room,” Yuuri continues, standing up again and boldly straightening out the collar of Viktor’s coat, brushing off imaginary dust from the fabric, like he isn’t brushing off the last few remnants of Viktor’s self control as well. “We can order room service?”

They lock eyes, Viktor’s breath hitching at the close proximity of their faces. Yuuri’s hands linger on his coat, the brown of his eyes making Viktor want to wax poetic about how they remind him of leaves during fall, of chocolate truffles and-

“Let’s _go_ ,” Yuri whines, tugging at his arm. “We need to hurry!”

Viktor swears he feels physical _pain_ when Yuuri hurriedly steps back, bright blush staining his cheeks as he grabs Yuri’s hand and walks towards the doors. He follows in a daze, not entirely sure what just happened but very sure that he wants _more_. His heart pounds inside his chest, throat dry when he attempts to swallow, and the sight of his son’s small hand wrapped safely in Yuuri’s almost does him in. _Almost_ , because he somehow makes it outside onto the sidewalk, barely noticing the slight chill in the air or the noise of cars driving by as they walk the short distance to Yuuri’s hotel.

There’s a tingling sensation in his fingertips, his body thrumming with the urge to-

To do what, exactly?

He knows, of course he _knows_ , but putting words to it isn’t something he thinks he’s ready for, not yet.

He’s not in love, he’s just-

 _Falling, falling, falling,_ with nothing to brace the impact.

He rubs at his face, as if the friction against his skin will make him forget the silly smile threatening to overtake him. There’s no use imagining them as a _family_ , heading back together, having dinner together like it’s natural, _inevitable_.

“Dad, you’re too slow!” Yuri shouts, walking backwards for a few steps to frown at him, arm twisting to keep his hand in Yuuri’s.

Yuuri isn’t frowning, no- he watches Yuri with an amused expression, eyes glancing at Viktor, sharing a secret smile over how cute Yuri’s impatience is, and _oh,_ there’s that _pain_ again.

Viktor clutches at his chest, helpless against that smile; maybe he’s been feeling lonely, maybe Yuuri is just that perfect, either way he doesn’t want to trade this feeling for anything in the world.

 _Maybe it’s a little bit like love_ , he thinks, stretching out his legs to catch up.

His fingertips feel like they’re on fire.  

♡♡♡

_21:19_

_[OMG YUURI WHAT WAS THAT]_

_[i swear we all thought you were gonna kiss him right there!!!!]_

[＼（Ｔ∇Ｔ）／]

_[go get ur man!!!!]_

_21:32_

_[Phichit no]_

_[/////////]_

_[Why would you even say that]_

_[I was just]_

_[It was nothing!!!!]_

_21:33_

_[we’re rooting for u!!!!!]_

_[omg i’m so proud of u]_

_[getting the hot russian dad of ur dreams]_

[(￣︶￣;)]

_21:36_

_[Stop]_

_[I’m going to eat and then practice bye]_

_[i’ll come check on you later!!!!!]_

♡♡♡

**@mila-b**

I can’t believe **@v-nikiforov** has been holding out on us. Great choreography for **@yuri_katsuki** in the SP today!

#nhktrophy #yuuridoesitbetter #kindajealous #thatsloveiguess

 

**@iceprincegeorgi**

**@mila-b** We can’t compete with love!

#yuuridoesitbetter #but what about #georgidoesitbetter #nhktrophy

 

_[image]_

♥  **1,049 likes**

 **christophegc** Finally figured out Yuuri’s secret! I need to find a cute little fan like **@yuri-plisetsky** too!

#nhktrophy #yuuridoesitbetter

_View all 34 comments_

 

_[video]_

♥  **3,951 likes**

 **yuri-plisetsky** Dad and Yuuri practicing for the free skate tomorrow!! **@v-nikiforov** **@yuri_katsuki**

#nhktrophy #yuuridoesitbetter #yurikatsuki #ourchoreography

_View all 548 comments_

♡♡♡

 Phichit can’t help it. Reading through the comments on little Yuri’s post is just too good – he’s tempted to join the discussion on whether or not Yuuri and Viktor are banging, but since he knows the truth, he figures he shouldn’t. That would just ruin the fun, no? Of course, he’ll let Viktor know because some of these comments are not very appropriate for an eleven-year-old to read, and surely Viktor must be monitoring his account. With this many followers he’s bound to get some nasty stuff in the comments.

Though, to be fair, a significant amount of the comments consist mainly of Yuuri’s fans freaking out over him potentially having a boyfriend. He’s always been so tight-lipped about his private life and especially in the romantic area, and even Phichit has been on the down low when it comes to posting anything remotely suggestive about Yuuri.

Embarrassing posts he’ll do, but he knows Yuuri would kill him for real if he ever wrote something about Yuuri’s single-minded interest in Viktor.

The Russian team seems to have no such qualms.

It’s definitely a good thing that Yuuri drops off social media during competitions, because if he saw this he would most likely freak out and not in a good way. He’s pretty sure Yuri didn’t anticipate this kind of reaction from the fans, though. Well, he’s a kid. Why would he? At least the posts made by Mila and Georgi give Phichit fuel to his suspicions – Yuuri’s feelings are _definitely_ reciprocated.

He grins to himself as he takes the elevator up to the conference floor, continuing to scroll through the comments and taking screenshots of the best ones so he can show them at Yuuri and Viktor’s future wedding. He’s sure Yuuri will thank him – eventually.

For now, he needs to make sure Yuuri gets some actual sleep before the free skate. He can do the plotting later, because no doubt will Viktor show up at the final to cheer for Yuuri, and this time Phichit is determined to go even if he doesn’t make it as a competitor.

It doesn’t take long to find the correct conference room since they all have windows, and it’s not like the hotel has room for any companies this weekend anyway. Just skaters, and what kind of skater would spend their evening dancing in a conference room? Yuuri, that’s who.

He peeks into the room, chuckling at the sight of Yuuri dancing under Viktor’s scrutiny. There is too much scrutiny of his ass for Viktor to be anything but _thirsty_ , not that Phichit can blame him. He’s even read theories from Yuuri’s few haters that he gets all those points simply because of his great ass, and well. Even haters can’t deny it, that’s how great it is. Phichit would know, he’s seen Yuuri’s ass almost every day for years now and it just keeps getting better impossibly enough. Maybe he needs to make another appreciation post soon.

Cracking the door open, he grins at Viktor and slips inside to sit down next to Yuri, who looks half asleep where he’s slumped in a chair.

“How’s it going?” he asks the kid, poking his arm and receiving a pout for his troubles.

All the tables have been pushed aside along the walls, Yuuri dancing back and forth in the empty space. He hasn’t noticed Phichit yet, and Viktor barely spared him a glance before he went back to focus on Yuuri (and Yuuri’s ass) again.

“They just do the same thing a hundred times,” Yuri complains, “and my phone has no battery.”

Silently, Phichit thinks that’s probably a good thing.

“Your post got really popular, you know,” he says, and bites his lip when Yuri brightens up.

“Really? It should be because Yuuri is the coolest.”

“Yes, um,” he sends a look in Viktor and Yuuri’s direction, contemplating his options. “Do you want to go and get a snack? We can let them finish up but Yuuri has to sleep soon, strict orders from Ciao Ciao.”

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, Celestino. He’ll be very upset if Yuuri doesn’t sleep.”

Yuri’s eyes widen, and he nods with a very serious expression.

“Papa!” he calls, and switches over to Russian for a few sentences, Viktor blinking in surprise and checking his phone.

“Oh you’re right, it _is_ getting late.”

“How late?” Yuuri asks, pausing and wiping at his forehead, not looking nearly as exhausted as he should be.

“Close to midnight,” Viktor answers, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to Yuuri like a true gentleman. “We should probably finish up for now.”

“I can go a little longer,” Yuuri argues, and Phichit hides a smile because oh, he _really_ wants to see how Viktor handles this.

Phichit has never met anyone else with such great stamina as Yuuri, and at first he thought it was just in his genes or something, but then he realized that Yuuri was just crazy when it came to practicing and has been like that his whole life.

“We’ll do a final run-through while they go buy a snack for Yuri.”

Yuuri frowns, opening his mouth to protest, but Viktor lifts a hand and gently runs his fingertips over Yuuri’s cheekbone and down along his jawline, causing Yuuri to take an involuntary step forwards.

“Yuuri,” he purrs, and even Phichit feels a little scandalized by the intimate tone he uses. “We don’t want you getting tired and sloppy, now do we? A good night’s sleep and a fresh start in the morning will be good, no? I can already tell that you will perform beautifully tomorrow.”

“W-well I-“

Phichit clears his throat, sad to interrupt but there’s a _child_ present, jeez. Even if he definitely likes Viktor’s idea of how to make Yuuri comply with sound reason.

“Time for that snack, right, Yuri! Let’s go!”

He jumps out of his seat and Yuri follows, sleepily rubbing at his eyes. He’s wearing his coat slung across his shoulders like a blanket, Viktor eyeing him in concern but still holding Yuuri close by the chin. Oh, Phichit is going to have _so_ much fun over this tomorrow when he gets Yuuri alone.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” he tells them, grinning as he walks backwards to the door.

Then, as Viktor’s eyes drift back to Yuuri, he mouths _you can thank me later_ and winks at his suddenly very red-faced best friend.

“ _Phichit_ ,” Yuuri protests, grabbing Viktor’s hand at last and removing it from his face, though he seems reluctant to let go.

It really is a shame that Phichit never met Viktor before, because while it’s true that he’s been teasing Yuuri about him he never thought it was _this_ bad. Clearly Yuuri has been withholding important information from him.

He brings Yuri down to the convenience store in front of the hotel, exploring the shelves with him and using his very basic Japanese skills to try and figure out what some of the wrapped snacks without pictures contain. If it takes more than ten minutes, he can’t really bring himself to feel guilty. In the meantime the number of comments on Yuri’s post climbs higher, and three people have already tagged him to ask about the rumor.

He sends a quick text to Celestino to let him know that he’ll be forcing Yuuri into bed soon, and that _maybe_ the Yuuri-Viktor collab is becoming a thing on social media. He wonders if Viktor has noticed yet. Probably not considering how he couldn’t keep his eyes off Yuuri.

“Phichit?” Yuri tugs at his sleeve, frowning at the display of candy bars. “Which one do you think Yuuri likes?”

“Oh, hm. Maybe we should get him something that is actual food instead, since he practiced so hard. What about Viktor?”

“No,” Yuri huffs, picking a box with Pikachu on it and turning it over curiously. “He can get his own. What’s in this?”

“No idea,” Phichit muses, but puts it in their small basket anyway. “We should check the pastries too. Maybe your dad wants some bread or something.”

“Do they have muffins? I want a muffin. Dad can starve.”

“Why?”

Yuri pouts, and Phichit has to resist the urge to snap a picture of it. No wonder this child has fans already.

“I think he wants to be Yuuri’s number one fan.”

“He what?”

“That’s _my_ thing!” Yuri exclaims, flinging his hands to the sides. “I want Yuuri to coach me, but now dad is coaching Yuuri! It’s not fair! I hate being little!”

Phichit has to take a moment to wrap his mind around this. He knows Yuri skates, but this is just _too sweet_.

“You want Yuuri to coach you?” he repeats, smiling wide.

Why didn’t Phichit think of that? His smile becomes a grin when Yuri nods into the collar of his jacket, reaching out to pat the child on his head.

“That’s a great idea. Best I ever heard!”

“Really?” Yuri peeks up at him, blue-green eyes hopeful. “But I also want Yuuri to keep skating.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll work out. But what’s this about being Yuuri’s number one fan?”

Yuri’s face scrunches up again, the toe of his shoe dragging against the floor.

“What if Yuuri likes him more than me?”

The words are mumbled, but they still tug at Phichit’s heart. He really doesn’t know anything about kids but he’s pretty certain that Yuuri sees dad and son as a package deal.

“Hey, guess what?” he whispers, bending down to Yuri’s level and making a show of looking around them to make sure no one’s listening. “When Yuuri saw the video of you skating, he started crying.”

“Crying?”

“Yeah, because he was so happy!” Phichit turns on the brightest smile he has, and is rewarded with a hesitant one from Yuri. “He _really_ likes you. But I think he really likes your dad, too.”

“Did he cry when he saw dad dancing?”

Phichit shakes his head, pretty sure that Yuuri had a _very_ different reaction to it. Probably not one he should reveal to a child.

“Hm,” Yuri says, but he looks pleased by the news.

For a long moment Phichit contemplates asking Yuri how he would feel if Yuuri were to, say, possibly have not-so-platonic feelings for Viktor, but decides against it. Definitely Viktor’s responsibility. Besides, knowing Yuuri, it could be years before he manages to act on his feelings. Viktor, on the other hand, is so painfully obvious that it’s a miracle Yuuri hasn’t picked up on anything yet. Or maybe he has and just won’t tell Phichit about it, which would be terribly rude of him.

“Come on,” he tells Yuri, straightening up again. “Let’s see if they have muffins, and then we should go back.”

♡♡♡

When the door closes behind Phichit and Yuri, Yuuri draws in a shaky breath and tries not to be hyper aware of the fact that they’re alone now. Considering that the last two times it happened he’d ended up running from Viktor, he resists the urge to follow the other two out the door. He can do this. He’s just going to try and dance the choreography again, and he thinks he’s starting to get the hang of it.

Oh no. He’s still holding Viktor’s hand, isn’t he?

He drops it, stepping back and almost tripping over himself, screaming internally when Viktor takes a half-step to follow. Does he have to be so close all the time? How is Yuuri supposed to concentrate!

“Can you start the song again?” he asks, looking at anything besides the man in front of him.

“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri makes the mistake of turning his head to scowl at him.

He’s so close that Yuuri wouldn’t even need to stretch his arm out more than halfway to pull him in. Which he isn’t going to do. That’s ridiculous. Bad thoughts, Yuuri.

“I’m perfectly fine!” he squeaks, wincing at the high pitch of his tone.

He isn’t precisely _fine_ , but if Viktor keeps his eyes on him like he’s been doing the past hour or so, Yuuri thinks he could dance forever.

“Maybe you should cool down and do some stretching instead,” Viktor suggests, pushing some of his fringe behind an ear only to have it fall back in front of his face again.

Yuuri bites his tongue so he won’t reach out and attempt to tuck it back himself. Viktor’s hair is probably as silky soft as it looks. He probably uses special shampoo, even. Like, shampoo for extraordinarily good-looking people.

“No, really, I’m fine,” he insists, but Viktor’s frowning now and Yuuri realizes he’s been hunching his shoulders, fingers clutching at the front of his shirt.

He forces himself to relax, but it seems the damage is done because Viktor’s frown only deepens.

“You’re not nervous about tomorrow?”

Yuuri shakes his head, because he is _much_ more nervous about the current situation. He can be nervous about tomorrow, well, _tomorrow_. When Viktor steps closer again he stares at the floor, trying his best not to simply close his eyes and hope for Viktor to touch him again.

Viktor is just a tactile person, so there’s no point in reading anything into it. Just because _Yuuri’s_ heart flutters pathetically whenever they touch doesn’t mean it affects Viktor in any way.

“Dance with me?”

“I- what?”

Raising his head he’s met with Viktor’s palm held out towards him, and confused he places his own on top of it. He’s rewarded with that heart-shaped smile he likes so much, and then Viktor puts his other hand on his hip and guides him into a silent waltz. Viktor laces their fingers together, his hold firm and secure as he pulls Yuuri flush against his chest, breath tickling his temple. It’s a few seconds of awkward hovering before Yuuri dares to put his other hand on Viktor’s shoulder, head swimming with the warmth of Viktor’s body heat. He’s sure the sound of his heart is loud enough for Viktor to hear, his limbs so stiff that Viktor must think he’s a terrible dance partner.

When Viktor’s hand slides from his hip to the small of his back he can’t catch the hitch to his breath before it’s too late.

“Relax, Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs in his ear, nose brushing against the shell of it and Yuuri might as well melt through the floor right now. “You pick up the choreography so fast, I’m impressed.”

“I’ve practiced,” he blurts, and almost kicks himself.

Of course he’s practiced, his life consists of nothing _but_ practice!

Still, his words make Viktor laugh quietly, their steps becoming longer as he leads Yuuri with more flourish.

“I can tell,” he says easily, thumb tracing Yuuri’s wrist and leaving goose bumps in its wake. “I’m almost sad you didn’t pick ballet as your career instead. Or any sort of dancing, really. You’d be fantastic.”

“Oh.” Yuuri ducks his head to the side, sure his face is catching fire like it always seems to do when Viktor compliments him. “I always felt more comfortable on the ice.”

Viktor hums, then falls silent. Gradually, Yuuri finds himself relaxing as Viktor moves them back and forth across the room, releasing tension from his shoulders that he hadn’t noticed before. There’s something soothing about Viktor’s scent, about being held – it fills his heart until he thinks it might burst.

At some point Viktor leans his cheek on Yuuri’s head, slowing down until they mostly turn in the same spot, the hand at the small of his back pressing them so close he can feel Viktor’s breaths. It’s overwhelming, almost. For a while, he can close his eyes and bask in it, this feeling that teeters dangerously close to _being loved_. Not that Yuuri has ever been loved before, but surely it must feel something like this? Chest burning from a simple dance, lips stretched in an everlasting smile. Desperately he tries to imprint the moment into his brain, begging himself to never forget it.

“Feeling better?” Viktor breathes, and Yuuri has to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.

“Yes,” he whispers, barely able to produce the sound. “Thank you.”

Afraid that Viktor will let go he squeezes his hand before he can think, relieved when Viktor squeezes back and keeps them moving. He’s grateful that Viktor doesn’t say more than that, allowing Yuuri to indulge in the moment longer. They only have ten minutes, perhaps slightly more than that because Phichit is rarely punctual, and Yuuri wishes they could stretch the time into infinity instead.

Even if it means nothing to Viktor, Yuuri treasures this closeness. It feels like a stolen moment, like something he doesn’t deserve but takes anyway, selfishly clinging to scraps when he knows he can’t have it all.

If he could have it, he would rest his head on Viktor’s shoulder, hum a melody under his breath, comb his fingers through Viktor’s hair and tug at it teasingly until it brought a laugh out of the other man.

If he could have it, he wouldn’t worry about retirement. He would skate until his body gave out, sure that Viktor would catch him when he fell.

He would-

He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flying open to stare unseeingly at a wall. He wasn’t supposed to think of this, not now, not with Viktor _here_ , warm and kind and _real_. They barely know each other, even if he feels like he knows him, feels like Viktor knows him inside out just by a look.

“Yuuri?”

Viktor has stopped moving, leaning back to catch Yuuri’s eyes. When Yuuri looks away, lungs straining for air, he lets go of Yuuri’s back. Yuuri misses the touch instantly, like he floats away if Viktor’s hand isn’t there to ground him.

“Yuuri, look at me.”

 Viktor’s voice is soft, as soft as the touch grazing Yuuri’s cheek before Viktor cups it with his palm. Yuuri doesn’t lift his chin when Viktor gently pushes at it, instead turning his face to bury his nose in Viktor’s palm, clenching his eyes shut and trying not to think at all. His head feels like it’s spinning, like he did a combination spin for too long and forgot how to stop. He doesn’t want to leave the moment but he knows he ruined it already, so lost in it that he went too far, until waking up was too cruel.

“What’s wrong, zolotsye moyo?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Yuuri insists, voice breaking halfway through. “I’m sorry.”

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself before turning to meet Viktor’s eyes, the concern in them clear enough even without him wearing his glasses.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” Viktor’s thumb brushes along his cheekbone, and Yuuri finds he can’t look away. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Yuuri forces out, breathless with Viktor’s mouth so close to him, straining not to let his eyes flicker towards it. “Um, what does zolotse mean?”

It’s the only thing he could think of to change the subject, anything to make Viktor stop looking at him like this, like he isn’t sure that kissing him would help but not knowing what else might.

“ _Zolotsye_ ,” Viktor corrects him, though Yuuri couldn’t tell the difference. “It means…”

He trails off, thumb running along Yuuri’s skin until it taps his lips, igniting sparks that zap through Yuuri’s entire body.

“It’s a secret,” Viktor decides, winking at him, and Yuuri wishes the universe would have mercy on him and let the floor swallow him whole.

“Viktor, you can’t-“

Luckily for Yuuri, the rest of his sentence dies on his lips when there is a knock at the door. He isn’t sure that whatever he meant to say wouldn’t give him away, wouldn’t form into a plea for Viktor to stop playing with his heart. Tearing his eyes away he finds Phichit peeking in through the doorway, his face grimacing with a silent ‘oops’ before it retreats again.

“Phichit!” Yuuri calls before he closes the door fully again, forcing himself to step away, shivering from the sudden cold.

“Yuuri!” Phichit calls back, swinging the door open with pretended cheer. “We’re back!”

Viktor makes an odd noise beside him, but Yuuri decides to ignore it for the sake of his own sanity.

“Yes, great, let’s all head to our rooms then, it’s getting way too late,” Yuuri babbles, almost stumbling on his own feet on his way to the door.

“We got you food!” Yuri announces, coming in after Phichit and holding up a plastic bag with onigiri in it.

Oh god, Yuuri can’t believe he’s been thinking about kissing Viktor with his son just outside the door. Struggling to swallow down the embarrassment he hopes the flush on his cheeks will be mistaken for exertion, and he tries his best to give Yuri a steady smile as he accepts the bag.

“That’s really nice of you,” he thanks him with, exchanging a panicked look with Phichit who seems only _too_ happy about catching him with Viktor in such a compromising position.

“We thought you must be hungry from all the _dancing_ ,” Phichit says, doing nothing to tone down the shit-eating grin he’s sporting. “I sure hope Viktor didn’t work you too hard.”

Yuuri wants nothing more than to bury his face in his hands and _groan_ , but settles for a stiff smile towards Phichit that promises murder once they’re alone.

“No he didn’t, and we really should go before Celestino comes checking on us himself, _right_? Thank you, Viktor, and goodnight, Yuri!”

He doesn’t dare to look back at Viktor, but he makes sure to give Yuri a quick hug and a smile before literally pushing Phichit towards the stairs, too worked up to wait for the elevator.

“Yuuri, I can walk!” Phichit objects, digging his heels in the whole way to the staircase. “I’m sorry I ruined your moment, I _tried_ to be quiet but-“

“It wasn’t a _moment_ ,” Yuuri hisses, interrupting him as he changes tactics and drags Phichit by the arm instead. “You should have showed up earlier! What took you so long!”

Phichit is silent for a few seconds, then has the audacity to laugh.

“Sure, whatever you say, Yuuri. But don’t you think it was a little rude to just leave them like that?”

Flinching, Yuuri refuses to care. He would have left Phichit as well, if he didn’t know that it would have been asking for trouble. It would be a small miracle if he manages to sleep after this, and an even bigger one if he manages to remember any of the choreography at all.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened? Did he kiss you? Are you getting married now? Can I-“

“Phichit, _please_.”

“I was just checking,” Phichit defends himself with, his innocent smile fooling no one.

Letting out an explosive sigh, Yuuri decides to ignore him. Who knows, with some effort he might even be able to ignore how his heart is beating at triple the speed.

Though, it’s not like it would help. Not when his lips still tingle with the memory of Viktor’s touch, for the _second_ time in one day. Yuuri is almost happy that the competition will be over soon because prolonged contact with Viktor really can’t be good for his health.

“So, just to be absolutely sure, he _didn’t_ kiss you?”

“ _Phichit_!”

♡♡♡

**@phichit+chu**

_Finally managed to put **@yuri_katsuki** to bed! So stubborn!_

#yuuridoesitbetter #exceptbedtimes #hesucksatthose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while #yuuridoesitbetter is totally trending, when will we see the birth of #viktuuri I wonder. Phichit is such a good friend though, what did we do to deserve him. 
> 
> Will Yurio ever figure out his dad's true intentions? Will Yuuri ever take matters in his own hands and try out a seduction technique or two? Will Viktor ever recover from, well, Yuuri's existence? Pretty sure we might find out in the future. 
> 
> 'mon cœur' - French for 'my heart'  
> 'zolotsye moyo' - Russian for 'golden' or 'my sweetheart'. I really don't speak Russian so I'm trusting people on the internet for this pet name. Obviously Viktor would start using pet names. It was only a matter of time.
> 
> I'm very much looking forward to finding out what you thought of the chapter, and if you have any suggestions to aid in my evil plan of finally getting our two boys together like they should be. I'm gonna pretend I don't need to get up for work in six hours. :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re in love with him,” Phichit points out, causing Yuuri to frown. “I think that’s a thing you should do something about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm back! Only took me a month lol, sorry about that. I'm super super happy about all the comments and kudos though, I know I say it every chapter but like, you're so awesome I love you. 
> 
> I also joined the Viktuuri Writer's Collective, and it's so much fun to talk to other writers on the discord chat. Good for inspiration! If any of you reading this are also in the chat, this is a shoutout to you! Let's work hard to write lots of viktuuri ;)
> 
> A happy one-day-late birthday to Nora, thanks for reading through the chapter and helping me with the stuff! 
> 
> Some of you requested more social media things so I tried... I'm sure you all wanted to read about the actual free skate in this chapter and I was planning to include it, but then the word count ran away with me and I added a few scenes BUT I think you will enjoy it more this way. At least after I post next chapter lol. 
> 
> I'm also contemplating changing the summary of the fic, just fyi. Haven't made any decisions yet. 
> 
> Well I could talk a lot more but let's keep things short and light, I hope you like the chapter (~‾⌣‾)~
> 
> Oh and if anyone is actually using the user names I've used in the fic, sorry! I haven't checked if anyone actually has those haha...

While they danced, Viktor’s thoughts went something like this:

 

_Finally!!! Dancing!!! With!!! Yuuri!!!_

_God, how does he smell so good? Will he notice if I pull him a little closer? Body contact makes people relax, this is purely scientific–_

_Don’t touch his ass don’t touch his ass don’t touch his ass–_

_Even his voice is pretty, wow, how does he do that, I’m just–_

_Does Yuuri know how fantastic he is? Should I tell him again? Maybe just keep dancing?_

_Aah I wish I could see his face, is he relaxing? I think he’s relaxing. I can’t believe we’re still dancing I think I might cry he’s just too perfect–_

_Oops I dropped my cheek on his head. Total accident. Not romantic at all, nope, nothing to see here–_

_Nononononono why did he stop?? He looks way too sad I can’t allow this–_

_Oh no, what should I do? Should I just kiss him?_

_Need! To! Marry! This! Man!_

_Haha I sure hope he doesn’t know how to use google translate–_

_@phichit_ （ ＴДＴ）

_Hmm how does that saying go, I hate to see you leave but love to watch you go?_

_Wow, I think I have a problem._

♡♡♡

Viktor is torn between banging his head against a wall and going back to sleep. He stares morosely down at his phone screen, wondering if letting Yuri have his own social media accounts really was such a great idea after all. He's pretty sure his decision had something to do with puppy eyes and a great deal of bargaining, and unfortunately part of the deal was that Viktor reads through comments before Yuri does, just to make sure his son doesn't have to deal with something children shouldn't have to deal with.

A very responsible thing to do, he's a fantastic dad, really (at least sometimes, and god knows he tries his best) but seven hundred comments? _Seven_ hundred?? He takes a Deep Breath, glancing at the curled form of a sleeping Yuri, and strangles the pathetic whine building up in his throat. It isn't that the comments are bad, and it isn't that the video is incriminating in any way (Viktor has watched it ten times already and still can't believe it happened in reality?) but the fact remains. There are comments. So many comments. Ranging in variety from _#relationshipgoals_ to _OMFG WHEN DID YUURI GET A BOYFRIEND????_ to wild discussions over their actual relationship status.

It isn't just Yura's video, either. It's the video coupled with the tweets from certain Russian skaters coupled with a sneakily taken picture of Yuuri adjusting Viktor's collar in the arena lobby coupled with what seems to be the entire history of pictures they've taken together and posted these past years, neatly linked along a timeline with commentaries (tumblr is a scary place).

Just when he thinks it can't get worse (or better, he still hasn't decided how to feel about it) his phone vibrates with a text message from none other than Lilia.

 

_06:43  
[You are dating Minako's student.]_

 

Even from half a world away he can see her disapproving tilt of eyebrows, and this time a small groan does escape his lips.

 

_06:44  
[We aren't dating!]_

_06:44  
[Even worse.]_

_06:44  
[This isn't some Romeo and Juliet thing Lilia _ _(‘A`)_ _]_

_06:45  
[What is that face even supposed to mean, Vitya. You were dancing with him.]_

 

Viktor falls back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes like it could block the world out so he can just continue dreaming about Yuuri's lovely smiles and endearing blushes and the absolutely mesmerizing way he moves while dancing. It's not too late for Yuuri to switch to ballet, is it? Viktor wishes he had swooped Yuuri up the first time they met and made him his student. Yuuri could have won all the awards AND they could have been married.

 

_06:47  
[Vitya. You were dancing. Choreographing! What am I supposed to tell your students?]_

 

Ah. His students. Always taking such interest in his (lacking) love life. He knows he's been neglecting them lately, focusing on choreographing instead as well as being roped into judging competitions internationally. It’s a bit difficult to teach consistently when he has to go on trips around the world on an irregular schedule. It’s yet another reason he treasures these trips to skating events with his son, because he gets to make up for all the times Yuri has to stay with Yakov or Lilia.

Thinking of Yura brings him back to the current problem, but he ignores Lilia’s text in favor of deleting comments. Who knows when Yuri will wake up, anyway? Surely this takes priority. He isn’t too worried since Lilia still called him _Vitya_ … Would Yuuri ever call him Vitya? He imagines hearing the name fall from those perfect, plump lips, maybe whispered into his ear, or against the hollow of his throat-

Right. He has a job to do. He doesn’t bother with reminding himself that Yuuri is unattainable, because after last night he’d rather not think about that. It’s _much_ nicer to read all these comments about how they look like the perfect couple (and if he screenshots a few of them, well, no one needs to know).

In the end he posts a picture of Makkachin on Yuri’s account with a reminder that a) he’s a _child_ and b) Viktor has better things to do than delete inappropriate comments. Like stalk Phichit’s accounts for updates on Yuuri, to name one example.

As early as it is, Viktor knows that many skaters will be up already, practicing for their long programs. Ice dance is up first, then the ladies, and finally the men. While he contemplates whether or not he should make Yuri rest up for most of the day even if it means missing the ice dance (Viktor is the one who likes it, anyway, imagining himself and Yuuri as a team even though he can’t skate to save his own life) his phone buzzes a few more times.

A work-related email, a few app notifications, and an unexpected text from Mila.

 

_07:20  
[Are you coming to morning practice?]_

Viktor frowns at the text. It’s not an open practice, and he doubts Yakov would let them in like yesterday. Maybe if Yura cried a little, but that probably falls into a category of not responsible parenting.

 

_07:21  
[It’s not open practice, why do you ask?]_

_07:21  
[You think they wouldn’t let Yuuri Katsuki’s bf inside??]_

_07:21  
[First of all, I’m not his boyfriend]_

_07:21  
[Um have you not checked twitter this morning]_

_07:22  
[Second of all, Yura’s still sick]_

_[Also I think I would know if we were boyfriends!!!]_

_[And I can’t believe you and Georgi commented on the video!_ ٩(๑`^´๑)۶ _]_

_07:23  
[Oops I keep forgetting you check Yura’s account ;)] _

_[Anyway are you coming or not??]_

Strangling yet another groan, Viktor tries to decide what to do. Would Yuuri even want them watching the practice? They’ve never attended any of the closed practice sessions before, for obvious reasons. And Yuri _is_ still sick, plus they went to bed really late.

On the other hand, knowing his son, there’s a very real possibility that Viktor will be given the cold shoulder for weeks after the competition finishes if Yuri finds out that Mila offered them to join and Viktor declined. It’s funny how this never happened before, but then again he and Yuri would usually be out sightseeing the few hours they could. He wasn’t even that good friends with Mila before he choreographed for her, either.

 

_07:26  
[Let me check how he’s feeling first]_

He pokes at Yuri until he wakes up, and barely finishes his question before Yuri is rushing off to the bathroom to get ready.

Well. That answers that.

 

_07:29  
[We’re joining!]_

_07:29  
[Good bc I need the deets on last night ;;;;)]_

Thumb hovering over his phone screen, Viktor gnaws on his bottom lip. He kind of lowkey wants to be angry at Mila for pushing the issue when _clearly_ he and Yuuri aren’t dating, nor about to start. On the other hand, thinking about last night makes him want to smile until his cheeks _hurt_. It’s not as if Yuuri seems to dislike it when Viktor touches him, and while they haven’t spent much time alone with each other Viktor can’t help but feel like it isn’t hopeless?

And it’s just that, the whole discrepancy between harsh reality and the dreamlike moments they spend together, that has Viktor’s heart ache inside his chest.

There’s no point pretending he can stay casual around Yuuri anymore, if he ever could. He doubts Yuuri will be happy with the attention, though. Maybe he should talk to him, clear things up a little. Yuuri might have to do some kind of official statement, and Viktor of course will deny any and all assumptions about them.

After the competition is over, that is. Until then? Well, no one can blame Viktor for wanting to live a little.

 

_07:45  
[We only danced]_

_[But he is so so beautiful and I am suffering:(]_

_07:46  
[Wow gay]_

_[Also you need to work on your flirting]_

_[I mean, you’ve only loved him for YEARS according to popular opinion]_

_[“We go to his competitions bc yura’s a fan” HA!]_

Viktor stares at the string of laughing-crying emojis following the texts, and almost chucks his phone into a wall.

 He settles for smothering himself with a pillow.

♡♡♡

**katsukiice:**

**Is Yuuri Katsuki off the market at last????**

                                So I don’t think anyone has missed Yuuri’s sudden changes to his short program, choreographed by  
                                Russian ballet prodigy Viktor Nikiforov. You can watch the full SP here, and here’s a post analyzing the  
                                changes. BUT the thing we all want to know - are they dating??? Yuuri has always been very tight-lipped  
                                about his romantic life, never giving much clue to either his preferences or dating history. This of course  
                                has led to much speculation, especially about the probability of Yuuri being in a relationship with his best  
                                friend and rink mate Phichit Chulanont, who is a blessing to all Yuuri fans crying over the radio silence so  
                                common for the world’s best skater (yeah I know he only holds the records for the FS and combined score  
                                but come on, does anyone really think he won’t beat the SP record soon? He’s already come close several  
                                times). However, as has been pointed out by many since yesterday, Nikiforov is the dark horse we can’t  
                                believe we missed. As you can see in this post, confirmed in this interview posted on _International Figure_  
                                _Skating_ ’s blog late last night, they’ve known each other for years (Nikiforov’s interview solving the mystery  
                                of Yuuri’s napkin holder!!) and there are posts with the two of them together with Nikiforov’s son (who is  
                                very popular among us fans as well!) from almost every competition.

                                Somehow we all seemed to focus so much on how cute it is that Yuuri is supporting little Yuri Plisetsky, avid  
                                skating fan and aspiring competitor, instead of the fact that Yuuri took care each and every competition to  
                                meet up with gorgeous Nikiforov. Because of the confusion and contradicting views on the Katsuki-Nikiforov  
                                relationship and the reason behind Yuuri’s sudden choreography change, I’m going to try and sort through  
                                the facts. First, we have to consider the fact that we still don’t know anything about Yuuri’s sexuality……

_Keep reading_

**quadlooped**

                                guys this is not a drill! i repeat: not a drill!!

**chris-on-a-pole**

 his bf is so hot i’m legit crying???

 _source: katsukiice   #yuuri katsuki   #nhk trophy   #figure skating   #honestly i’m still screaming????_  
                              _#when will we get confirmation   #ahgjhdskjgkslfjbklfjbkf   #if Yuuri doesn’t tell in an interview i will DIE_  
 _#but damn they look so good together like   #IT HAS TO BE REAL PLEASE_  
                               _#where is phichit when we need him   #i’m shook_  
                              268 notes

 

Phichit snickers to himself as he likes the tumblr post, saving it for a later read-through. Maybe he shouldn’t enjoy the situation so much, but since he’s fairly sure that Viktor and Yuuri like each other, well. What’s the harm? He just needs to make sure to talk to Yuuri before he goes back online after the competition is over. It really wouldn’t help if Yuuri’s penchant for misinterpreting things kicked in and convinced him Viktor would hate him because of all the fan speculation or something equally ridiculous.

Especially since Mila is the one who sent him the link, followed by not a few memes clearly stating her opinion on the matter. (Phichit may or may not have sent back a bunch of wedding gifs.)

With a small skip to his step, Phichit walks the few steps between his and Yuuri’s rooms, knocking while trying to tamper down his grin. When Yuuri doesn’t open he pulls out the second keycard to the room that he swiped from Yuuri the first night, just in case he didn’t wake up on time. Yuuri is very good at sleeping through alarms, and even better at staying up too late. Sometimes Phichit suspects he doesn’t sleep at all, but thankfully only when he doesn’t have practice the next day. Practice is holy, after all.

“Yuuri?”

Pushing the door open he enters the dark room, finding him not in bed like he’d thought, but instead standing by the window. He seems lost in thought, one hand resting on the glass and the other tugging at the zipper of his team jacket.

“Are you okay?”

Yuuri barely twitches, and the only clue Phichit has to being noticed is the way his hand slides off the window to disappear into a pocket instead.

Walking closer, he figures it’s better to stay silent and wait for Yuuri to say something. He settles in the customary armchair that seems to exist in almost all hotel rooms, glancing out the window as well at the first few colors of dawn spreading along the horizon.

“I’ve only been awake ten minutes or so,” Yuuri tells him quietly, tugging a few final times on his zipper before shoving that hand into a pocket as well, slowly turning towards Phichit.

He’s still wearing pajama pants, so Phichit figures it’s probably true. Hopefully. Though, while he’s looking at Phichit, he doesn’t really seem to _see_ him.

“Ready for practice?” Phichit asks, squirming a little in his seat.

He’s not great at figuring out Yuuri’s moods, not when it’s one of the contemplative ones. It could be that he’s just thinking about the competition, or that he’s tired. Sometimes when Yuuri gets that faraway look in his eyes he ends up saying something ridiculous, like _do dogs know we buy them to love us?_ or _I wonder if pole dancing can help with my skating_.

Yuuri frowns, and stares out the window again.

“I’ve been trying to figure out if I should retire after this season or not,” he says, and Phichit figures that yeah, okay, it’s the mood where he says ridiculous things because-

“WHAT?!”

“I’m not going to,” Yuuri hurries to add, ducking his head. “I think. If I make it to the final.”

“If,” Phichit echoes, biting his tongue. He knows Yuuri isn’t saying it to look down on others, but it’s so hard sometimes to not be frustrated with his lack of belief in his own skills. “Okay. Okay, this is really surprising, I mean, _why_?”

When Yuuri shrugs, Phichit almost goes over to the bed to grab a pillow just so he can throw it at him.

“I don’t know how to explain. I still love skating, but competing just felt…”

“Oh.” Phichit calms down again, immediately switching over to concern. “Is it stress? I mean you’ve really been pushing yourself with your studies and-“

“No, it’s not like that. I think I lost my inspiration? I sort of… started thinking about going home more than I thought about practicing my routines.”

How did Phichit miss this? _How_. He’d thought it was about Skate Canada, and before that he barely had time to sit down and talk to Yuuri because they were both practicing so much, and trying to deal with as much schoolwork as possible in the off season. Yuuri’s supposed to graduate in spring, summer maybe, and just like with skating he won’t settle for moderate grades. Phichit should have known this was coming, there’s only so much a person can handle at once after all. Yuuri might be stronger than most and stubborn to a fault, but even he can’t be perfect all the time.

“Wait. You were homesick?” The guilty look on Yuuri’s face says it all, and Phichit jumps up to throw his arms around his friend. “Oh, Yuuri, why didn’t you just go home? You don’t have to retire to do that!”

“It’s…” Yuuri doesn’t hug him back, but he leans his head on Phichit’s shoulder and accepts being squeezed.  “It doesn’t matter. I _want_ to compete in the final.”

Phichit can hear the silent _but_ at the end of that sentence, and he pushes Yuuri up again to search his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There’s a sheepish look on Yuuri’s face, cluing Phichit in on the fact that Yuuri definitely wants to talk about it but still feels bad for bringing it up.

“Alright!” he says, bringing his palms together. “This calls for a pillow fort, I believe.”

“Phichit, we have to go to practice-“

Ignoring Yuuri’s frown he pulls him towards the bed, lifting up the carefully made covers and sitting down, holding them up for Yuuri to crawl under as well.

“There’s not enough pillows, but this will do,” he says, lifting the covers a little higher with an encouraging smile.

“Phichit,” Yuuri sighs, but relents and climbs onto the bed.

The next minute is spent arranging the covers comfortably around them, Phichit placing his phone between them with the flashlight on. He slips a hand out to grab a pillow, handing it to Yuuri for hugging purposes. They sit cross-legged face to face, knees bumping, and Phichit places his hands over Yuuri’s ankles.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

Yuuri looks mildly annoyed, picking at a seam on the pillowcase.

“You didn’t have to make a pillow fort,” he says, but Phichit only squeezes his ankles in reply. “I’m fine.”

Staying silent, Phichit waits as Yuuri gnaws on his lips, smoothing out creases in the pillow until it looks straight out of the store. It’s already getting warm, but blocking out the world is a comfort that he knows Yuuri silently appreciates.

“I don’t know why I never told you that I don’t like my programs. Maybe I was-“

Yuuri presses his lips into a thin line, hunching his shoulders. It’s obvious that whatever he thinks might be the reason isn’t something he’s happy about, and Phichit’s gut feeling says it has something to do with Viktor.

“Maybe you were…?”

“Jealous,” Yuuri breathes out in a rush, fingers digging into the pillow. “Maybe I was jealous that Viktor didn’t choreograph for me. I just felt like it didn’t matter what my programs were, because it would never feel like _dancing_. I didn’t even try to adjust them or connect with the feeling or-”

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri forces his hands to unclench.

“I just wanted to get away from everything and go home. But at the same time I don’t feel like I’m _done_ , you know?” He meets Phichit’s gaze, pleading with him to understand. “I thought that if I don’t make it to the final, then I’m fine with it, and maybe I’ll just stay in Japan until Nationals. But I’m not. I’m not fine with it. I want to go home but not because I _lost_.”

Phichit opens his mouth to respond but Yuuri continues to talk, words tumbling over each other as he tries to explain.

“When I was at Skate Canada it just felt like going through the motions, like spinning and spinning but never landing, and I kept thinking the whole time that I just wished it would _end_. I hated it. I hated getting bronze when I didn’t even _try_ , and all the reporters kept asking if I was injured or sick or what happened and I didn’t even know what to say? I couldn’t just tell them I was, that I was-“

He pauses, rubs a hand over his cheek.

“I’ve spent so much time skating and competing and studying that I, kind of forgot about life?” When he sees Phichit’s concern he shakes his head quickly, mustering up an apologetic smile. “I know you tried, Phichit, and I know I _could_ have done other things. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to go on dates or meet new people or-“

Yuuri’s lips quiver, and he self-consciously combs a hand through his hair.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it? I barely even know him, but then I chose my theme and music and I thought of them and the choreography just didn’t _fit_.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” Phichit can feel his heart break a little, taking Yuuri’s hands and slotting their fingers together. “It isn’t stupid.”

It’s so unfair, because Yuuri is such a strong person, so talented and hardworking and kind, and yet he never asks for anything, never thinks he _deserves_ things.

“It’s a little stupid,” Yuuri insists, a bubble of laughter that sounds more like a sob escaping him. “It’s so much worse now, when he…“

“It’s okay, Yuuri.” Mentally kicking himself for not fucking _noticing_ , Phichit scoots a little closer, tugs Yuuri’s hands into his lap. “It’s okay to want things, you know. And I’m pretty sure that Viktor and Yuri like you a lot.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri mumbles, a weak smile ghosting over his face.

“I mean it, if Viktor doesn’t like you back I’m going to kick his ass so hard he’ll never be able to dance again!”

This at least makes Yuuri smile for real, and he squeezes Phichit’s hands back.

“Right now, I just want to skate,” he says, a determined look forming in his eyes. “That’s the most important thing. I don’t want to embarrass myself today again.”

Phichit doesn’t say it, that Yuuri’s ‘embarrassing’ skating is at a level most skaters only dream of. Instead he nods encouragingly, releasing Yuuri’s hands.

“And then we’ll work something out about you going back to Hasetsu. And Viktor.”

“There’s nothing to work out about Viktor,” Yuuri argues, averting his eyes.

“You’re in love with him,” Phichit points out, causing Yuuri to frown. “I think that’s a thing you should do something about.”

Yuuri’s mouth thins into a tense line, and he pushes the covers off them. The hotel room feels cold after the stuffy warmth of their little hiding place, but Phichit keeps his eyes trained on Yuuri.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Yuuri says, and that’s that.

Well, for now. Phichit isn’t one to give up so easily.

♡♡♡

**@mila-b**

Morning practice has started!

_[image]_

#nhktrophy #russiancheeringsquad

 

**@mila-b**

As requested, pic of the Russian cheering squad! Davai! **@saracrispino @iceprincegeorgi @yuri_katsuki**

_[image]_

#nhktrophy #russiancheeringsquad

♡♡♡

After forcing himself to eat breakfast, Yuuri spends the time waiting for his practice slot doing warm-up exercises and stretching in one of the corridors underneath the rink. He has a short interview coming up, probably just a check on how he feels about his chances in the free skate, and then a longer one once practice is over. Phichit is chatting with Leo and Guang Hong, and Yuuri is relieved to be left alone for a while. He’s trying not to think about their earlier conversation, pushing it to the back of his mind as he goes over the changes to his routine. Which is kind of counterproductive since thinking about choreography inevitably makes him think about Viktor, which of course leads him over to Phichit telling him to _do something about it_ and yeah, Yuuri should maybe not be left alone after all.

“There you are,” Celestino says a few minutes later, when Yuuri has managed to not think about Viktor approximately a hundred times. “TV Asahi is ready whenever you are.”

Yuuri nods, getting up on his feet and grabbing his water bottle. He hopes Morooka will be interviewing him, he always makes Yuuri feel a bit more relaxed about it. He might be used to doing interviews but he doubts he’ll ever start enjoying it.

They do the interview in the lobby since it’s mostly empty, two hours or so left until the final competition day officially starts. Luckily it is Morooka interviewing him, and Yuuri breezes through the regular questions like if he feels in good shape and what he thinks of the other competitors. Of course he’s asked about the new choreography, and Yuuri has to admit that he only made a few minor changes due to the lack of time, but he and Celestino haven’t talked through their final strategy yet.

“Thank you, skater Katsuki,” Morooka politely finishes the interview with. “Everyone is looking forward to your free skate so please do your best!”

“Thank you for all the support, I’ll be working hard,” Yuuri replies, but once the cameras are off, Morooka lowers the microphone and steps in closer.

“Katsuki-kun, if you don’t mind me asking, there have been a lot of rumors circling the internet. I think everyone really wants to know.”

“Know what?” Yuuri can tell that the camera crew is trying very hard to pretend they aren’t listening, and Celestino has disappeared somewhere to check up on Phichit. “I always log out of my social media during competitions, remember?”

“Oh! Yes of course! Well, about Viktor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri’s stomach drops. He’s afraid to ask, because Morooka isn’t one to bother with rumors most of the time, so this has to be something huge. Maybe the ISU isn’t happy? But Celestino would have said something… So then, is Viktor going to be fired from Lilia’s ballet school?!

“What about him?” he asks, wincing when his voice wavers.

“Ah, it’s just,” Morooka moves even closer, sneaking looks around them. “I was wondering if I should say congratulations?”

Yuuri, utterly confused, can only blink rapidly at the commentator.

“I, um-“

“Katsuki-kun, we’re all very happy for you! Naturally everyone wants to know the how and when, but we know how private you are!”

Morooka nods to himself, patting Yuuri’s arm twice before smiling and excusing himself.

“You have our support as Japan’s ace!” he calls as he and his team start making their way to the press area, the others nodding along fervently. “If you decide to talk about it, please use TV Asahi!”

Hoping for his own sanity that Morooka wasn’t talking about anything even remotely related to Viktor, Yuuri tries to shake off his confusion and makes his way to the rink instead. It’s almost time for the first group of Men’s skaters to practice, Phichit among them.

He finds Phichit talking to Chris, of all people, and hesitates twice before walking over to join them.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Chris purrs, holding an arm out in greeting. “The man of the hour! We were just talking about you!”

This does nothing to ease Yuuri’s suspicions. He pretends he doesn’t see Phichit elbowing Chris in the side.

“How did your interview go?” Phichit asks, radiating innocence.

“Fine,” Yuuri clips at him, then resolutely turns towards the ice to watch a few of the skaters in the Ladies division wrap up their practice.

He isn’t angry at Phichit, far from it really. But he still has those words swimming around his brain, poking at him until it feels like his whole body itches with the urge to shout out his denial.

 _You’re in love with him_.

You can’t be in love with someone you only meet a few times a year, and only talk to now and then. It’s impossible. That’s the sort of thing that happens in movies, and movies rarely work in real life anyway.

And yet.

Yuuri knows he’s attracted to Viktor, finds everything he does breathtaking, wishes he could be there too to watch Yuri grow up. He’s a lot more invested than he should be, and if he’s honest with himself, hearing Phichit call it _love_ is scary. If there wasn’t the obvious problem with distance, Yuuri might have felt better about it. As it is now…

What if it’s only attraction? What if he gets to know Viktor and it’s nothing like he imagined it would be? Maybe he’s just lonely, and anyone would do (they wouldn’t). Still, it’s not like he ever made actual effort to meet someone and fall in love with them, and he’s pretty sure Viktor is the first person he’s had any sort of interest in since he had that crush on Yuuko when he was ten.

Being in love seems so _huge_. Friendship he can do, attraction he can handle. But love?

Love is running an onsen together, smiling at each other’s silly antics, telling your children to _eat up, so you grow up healthy and strong!_ It’s knowing each other inside out, opening up and being accepted. To Yuuri it always seemed like a wistful dream, to be so comfortable with another person. To go from a first meeting to that point where everything feels natural…

Yuuri shakes his head, ignoring that small voice in his head that keeps repeating _and yet, and yet_ , because what little he has with Viktor surely won’t hold them all the way.

He draws in a breath, holding it. He does another recount of his program, thinking of additional changes, little things he can do to make it more alike Viktor’s style. It’s still so frustrating that he can’t change all of it, that he has the possibility to skate something _perfect_ but time isn’t on his side.

There must be something he can _do_ …

He stays for the first half of Phichit’s practice, offering encouraging smiles and comments, then leaving for a proper warm-up. He doesn’t talk to anyone and no one approaches him, again leaving him with only his thoughts as company. This was always the part of competitions he liked least, the waiting and preparing. There really is no way to make it pleasant, and all he can do is try to focus on the task at hand.

When he returns to the rink, skates on, Phichit is already stepping off the ice.

“Viktor’s here, you know,” he tells Yuuri with a grin, pointing to the middle of the spectator seats on the other side of the ice. “They brought a sign, too.”

 Even without his glasses, Yuuri can make them out clearly. There’s very few people present, and they stand out. He recognizes Mila too, since he watched her short program one or fifty times for Viktor’s choreography.

He’s not sure what to feel. They’ve never attended closed practice before, and he’s both thrilled and nervous to see them. It really doesn’t help with pretending he isn’t affected by Viktor’s presence, because there’s a rush of something warm running through his body when they wave. He waves back, then turns to Phichit with a whine.

“What are they doing here? I’m not ready to see him!”

“Why?” Phichit looks amused, leaning past Yuuri to wave at the small cluster of Russians. “It’s not like you have to go up there and confess your love or anything.”

“ _Phichit_ ,” he hisses, but Celestino is walking over and Yuuri just wants a week of vacation to sort through the mess inside his head.

“Yuuri, how are you feeling? Did you warm up properly?” When Yuuri nods, Celestino hums happily. “No distractions today?”

Phichit coughs, and Yuuri contemplates stepping on his foot. He still has his skate guards on so it wouldn’t do much damage.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, eager to step onto the ice and ignore the rest of the world.

“Good, good. Let’s go through whatever part it is you want to change, and then I want you to run through the lutz, maybe a few more jumps depending.”

Yuuri nods again and takes off the skate guards, handing them to his coach. If he can just do a few laps and clear his mind… To Yuuri, the ice was always a place where he could ignore the world. He’s spent so much time on it that he can’t even imagine what it would be like to stop, and he hopes he never has to. Honestly he doesn’t have any semblance of a plan after retirement, maybe do ice shows, maybe help out at the onsen, maybe lie down and cry. He doubts he has the peace of mind needed for coaching.

Despite what he told Phichit earlier, he’s pretty sure that if he’d gone home his resolve to retire would have most likely crumbled as soon as Four Continents rolled around. On the other hand, if he wants to retire before the next Olympics, this is the season to do it. Once next season arrives with its qualifications, Yuuri knows he’d never be able to let his country down by quitting.

Making life decisions isn’t precisely a favorite activity of his, but two months ago quitting felt much easier than continuing. Hell, just a week ago he was ready to accept defeat. And now? Yuuri steps onto the ice, letting out a breath at the smooth glide of his blades, tension dropping from his shoulders.

Now, Yuuri will claw his way to the final if he has to, fake emotion for the parts of his program he still resents if it gets him there. He’ll pour everything he has into this mess of a routine, accepting Celestino’s advice to play it safe and switch things up in the final.

He only makes it half a lap before he’s pulled out of his thoughts by Yuri’s excited shouting.

“Yuuri! Good luck!”

Coming to an abrupt stop, ice shavings spraying around his skates, Yuuri turns back to lean against the rinkside barrier underneath the three Russians.

“Good morning,” he greets them, sort of but not really avoiding looking at Viktor. “Are you feeling better today, Yuri?”

Yuri nods, then leans forwards to pick up the sign Phichit had mentioned earlier.

“I put me and dad on the sign too because watching practice was so boring without you.”

Not entirely sure that the funny faces on the sign can actually be mistaken for Viktor and Yuri, Yuuri smiles all the same.

“That’s nice,” he says, choking on the last syllable when he reads the text.

Where it used to say _Katsuki Yuuri for gold_ it now says _Quadsuki Yuuri,_ the ‘quad’ part written over the previous text in red marker.

“Quadsuki?” he asks hesitantly, because he’s heard the nickname before, though never from Yuri.

“Mila did it,” Yuri growls, glaring at the now laughing woman. “I told you not to touch my sign when I was going to the toilet!”

“But it’s such a great name!” Mila defends herself with, grinning down at Yuuri. “You’re the only one who can do all the quads, so it’s _perfect_.”

Yuuri’s smile wavers a little. He hasn’t talked to Mila before, but she seems very enthusiastic at least.

“I haven’t done the flip in competition yet, and the axel is still impossible,” Yuuri reminds her, starting to feel a little cold.

“But you can do it!” Yuri exclaims, eagerly leaning over the back of the seat in front of him, eyes wide and expectant. “You can do the quad flip, right? Will you do it in the final?”

Looking up at the child (and totally not looking at Viktor, of course not, but damn he looks good in that sweater) Yuuri feels a surge of affection well up inside him.

“Yura, be careful or you’ll fall,” Viktor cautions, using English as he picks Yuri up to pull him onto his lap. “Let’s not bother Yuuri when he has to practice!”

“But I want to see the flip,” Yuri pouts, still clutching the sign in his little hands. “And when I grow up, I want to be the first person to do the axel! No, the second! Yuuri can be first.”

“What if I learn it first?” Mila teases him, earning a stuck-out tongue and grimace.

“Hey,” Yuuri says, heart pounding against his ribs as he comes to a decision. “Watch me, okay? I just need to do a few warm-up laps first.”

He pushes off the barrier, picking up speed while mindful of the other skaters. They’re all just warming up at this point, but Yuuri wants to go through with this before he has the chance to think too much and change his mind. That’s why, after a few laps and ignoring Celestino’s little wave to talk over the choreography, Yuuri picks out a good moment for his jump.

He goes backwards at first, finding the right speed, turns to go forwards, tunes out the world, then turns back again just before digging his toe pick into the ice.

It’s a good jump. He can tell even before he lands, leg and arms stretched out and balanced. And honestly, he’s been feeling fine while practicing this jump for a while now, as long as Phichit was the only one looking.

Maybe he can add it in the final.

He’s barely let the thought surface as he slowly skates backwards when Phichit’s voice sounds over the pop music playing.

“Yuuri I can’t believe you! I don’t even have my phone on me!”

Yuuri glides towards Phichit’s voice on one skate, shrugging when he reaches the fuming man.

“It was a spur of the moment thing, not something you were supposed to record.”

“But Yuuri! Think of the likes I could have gotten! What’s the point of doing a perfect jump you’re not even going to compete with if I can’t make a post about it!”

At this point Yuuri can easily tell that Phichit’s messing with him; after all, his best friend knows full well how much he’s secretly practiced the jump because they often linger after hours together at the ice rink back in Detroit.

“Anyway, Yuuri, shouldn’t you be talking to your fans instead of me?”

Phichit’s supporting his chin in one hand against the barrier, a telling look in his eyes that has Yuuri fighting down a blush as he glances to the other side of the rink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, then blanches as Celestino stomps over to them.

“Yuuri,” he scolds, handing him his water bottle. “Are you planning on doing the flip during the free skate?”

“No.”

“But you should!” Phichit chirps. “It was perfect!”

“I’m _not_ adding it,” Yuuri chokes out, Celestino pushing Phichit’s grinning face away before speaking again.

“Then why did we see you practicing it? Practice the lutz if you’re going to do quads right away!”

Yuuri gnaws at the bottle rather than drinking from it, suddenly all too aware of everyone’s eyes on him. There had been a sliver of applause after he jumped despite the lack of people, and Michele glares at him as he skates by.

“…yes coach.”

“Well,” Celestino sighs, combing hands through his hair. “I was going to ask you anyway if you wanted to add another quad?”

“Another?” Yuuri perks up at this, surprised.

Celestino had been so adamant about keeping the free skate simple for now and adding on elements later in the final instead, and just yesterday he’d told Yuuri to change his jumps to triples.

“Yes, but only because you seemed so frustrated about the choreography. You did get a lower than usual PCS and you had no problem landing your jumps yesterday. And, clearly, you’re not too tired today.”

“The loop?” Yuuri asks, ignoring Phichit stealing his phone out of Celestino’s pocket and immediately snapping pictures of Yuuri.

“Or make it a toe loop, we don’t need to make it _too_ difficult.”

Yuuri nods slowly, thinking through his program. It starts with the lutz, then there’s a triple loop where the extra quad would end up instead, then the triple axel… He has a toe loop right at the end in a combination, and frowns a little. Part of the reason he wanted so badly to learn the different quads was so that he wouldn’t need to worry about repeating jumps if he failed a combination.

“No, I’ll do a loop,” he decides, giving the bottle back. “Choreography first?”

When Celestino nods, Yuuri does another two laps, smiling at Yuri on the first. It’s impossible not to when he’s practically glowing, jumping up and down in his seat as he is.

(He still avoids looking at Viktor. He’s even 50 percent successful with it.)

It’s more difficult than usual to shake off his thoughts, and when he stops in his starting pose he can tell he isn’t quite there concentration-wise. However, if there’s one thing he’s learnt from experience, it is that no matter if you’re ready or not, at a competition you simply have to _skate_. There’s no second chances or starting over, there’s only _pushing through_ and giving a huge _fuck you_ to the anxiety that dances around the edges of his mind.

Well, it would have been easier said than done if he hadn’t worked on his nerves so much.

As it is, he takes a deep breath and recalls the motions, the way Viktor looked when he demonstrated, the way Yuuri felt when it was just him and Viktor and little Yuri dozing in a corner. He’s thankful that the other skaters give him a lot of space, because it’s hard to get the swaying movements wide enough if he has to constantly watch his back.

He only changed the first thirty seconds or so of the program, excluding the time spent jumping the lutz in the middle. The second time through feels better, and he adds the toe loop by the end.

Somehow, what he thought was nerves seem to be excitement instead? He’s so happy that the choreography feels good on the ice, not that he thought it wouldn’t but for some reason the grand gestures of Viktor fits him so much better than the melancholy of the almost _tight_ ones in the original.

The third time he doesn’t even notice that all the other skaters have paused, watching him as he goes down on one knee, turns back and forth with his arms stretching for something intangible, the ghost of a person or place he can never reach. At least, that’s what Viktor said the song made him think of, and Yuuri supposes that the Italian aria fits the theme of _longing_ so well because it makes him feel fantastically depressing things.

He goes into the lutz, counts the spins and eases into the landing, his body light-weight through the rest of Viktor’s carefully orchestrated dance. He reaches out, pours feeling into it, allows the burning heat he feels when Viktor touches him to spread until his fingertips are set alight. The music from the speakers is long gone, and instead he fills his ears with a memory as clear as if it was the only noise inside the rink.

The quad loop feels easy, familiar through extensive practice; he lands it cleanly, and then-

Then he has to stop, because that’s as far as the new choreography goes. He glides backwards along the length of the rink, panting lightly, but it isn’t until he wipes some sweat off the back of his neck that he notices how eerily quiet it is.

It’s just a change of song because barely a second later there’s new music blaring from the speakers, and everyone jerks to life, like they hadn’t all been suspended in time as Yuuri skated. Which obviously they couldn’t have been, he’s just being paranoid again. Right?

When he gets back to Celestino, the man is giving him a contemplative look that unnerves him much more than people being suspended in time could ever do. He bites his lips as he dries his face with a napkin, side-eyeing Phichit who is glued to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Yuuri,” Celestino starts, and he instantly straightens up to attention. “How much do you need to pay Viktor for the choreography, anyway?”

“Pay?” Yuuri blinks at his coach, nervously patting his mini-Makkachin napkin holder. “He didn’t say anything about it. I don’t think he meant for me to pay for it.”

Celestino hums, sharing a glance with Phichit that Yuuri would definitely not appreciate had he been looking.

“Well, it’s no wonder he’s an internationally renowned choreographer for ballet, this should fit the theme and music perfectly. It fits _you_ perfectly. So, when are you going to formally introduce us?”

“Introduce?” Yuuri chokes on air, coughing and gratefully accepting Phichit’s bottle of water.

“Yuuri, as your coach I think I need to get to know your new choreographer,” Celestino chuckles, clapping him on the shoulder. “Not that he’s very _new_ , I suppose.”

“Um.” He feels his face heat up, much like Phichit’s lights up with glee except for Yuuri it’s a lot more embarrassing.

“I’ll text him for you!” Phichit goes back to typing on his phone, and belatedly Yuuri realizes with horror that somehow, Phichit must have gotten either his number or added him on whatsapp.

“Since when do you talk to Viktor?” he asks frantically, squeezing Phichit’s bottle and trying to see the phone screen.

“Actually, I’m talking to Yuri,” Phichit informs him, sending him an innocent smile before going back to his phone.

He’s not sure if that’s better or worse, but gives up his attempts to peek. It’s not like he can read the text from this distance anyway without his glasses.

“Alright, Yuuri, I think it’s looking good so far, but we still have another fifteen minutes so why don’t you go out there and just get a feel for the ice? Take it easy.”

Nodding at Celestino, Yuuri shakes his hands and skates off, noting down the placements for his jumps and spins. Yesterday he hadn’t been able to make use of the full size of the rink during the new choreography, not wanting to risk bumping into any of the barriers, but with this program it’s necessary to spread himself out more.

He’s hyper aware of Viktor watching him. Every time he glances at the man his eyes are glued to Yuuri it seems, and every time Yuuri skates past he can’t help but look up at him, a thrill snaking down his spine. It makes him feel like he can do _anything_ , as long as Viktor is watching him. It was the same last night while he danced, and he wonders how fast he could have mastered the flip if Viktor had been there every practice. He still makes sure to smile at Yuri as well, and the boy looks ecstatic every time. Honestly, Yuuri must have done something really fantastic in a past life to deserve those two cheering him on with such dedication.

Eventually practice time is over, and Yuuri puts on his skate guards wondering why he isn’t feeling more tired than he is. Despite what he’s told Celestino, he really _should_ be feeling the strain in his body by now, but instead he feels good.

“Here,” Celestino says, handing him his jacket and a few napkins to dry off the sweat clumping his hair together. “Rest up a bit, Phichit went to get sandwiches. Your interview’s in ten.”

His coach smiles, and Yuuri wonders for a fleeting moment how Celestino would react if he told him about his now abandoned plans on retirement. Right now, like this, with Viktor’s choreography fueling him, it’s hard to believe he was still thinking about it merely days ago. It feels like a different lifetime, a time where he hadn’t danced close to Viktor, felt his cheek on top of his head and his hands warm on his body.

So yes, he feels good.

He feels like there’s something waiting for him on the other side of the free skate, something terrifying and beautiful that he can only have if he skates it perfectly.

He feels like he could break a record, maybe.

♡♡♡

_[video]_

♥  **7,208 likes**

 **yuri-plisetsky** Yuuri does the quad flip at practice! But he says it won’t be part of the free skate:(

#nhktrophy #yuuridoesitbetter #yurikatsuki #quadsuki #quadflip #socool

_View all 311 comments_

 

**@mila-b**

Actual footage of **@v-nikiforov** ’s face during **@yuri_katsuki** ’s practice

_[image]_

#nhktrophy #russiancheeringsquad #heonlycheersforyuuri #thatsloveiguess #yuuridoesitbetter

 

[image ]

♥  **3,132 likes**

 **Phichit+chu** Okay but who allowed him????

#yurikatsuki #quadsuki #nhktrophy #yuuridoesitbetter #addtheflip2K15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #quadsuki am I right? I've seen people talking about Yuuri mastering the quad axel in the anime and like, that would be so cool. I like how Yuzuru Hanyu is like, what, it's scientifically possible I'll totally do it at some point. He's an inspiration.
> 
> So, will Yuuri add the quad flip to his free skate? Will Viktor ever get back at Mila? Will any reporter actually ask Yuuri straight up the thing all his fans are dying to know? Is Chris planning something??? 
> 
> Who am I kidding, Chris is always planning something. Just like me! I'm planning to celebrate the fact that I have a few days off ahead of me:D Happy Easter if anyone celebrates it (I mostly use it as an excuse to eat loads of candy and also, vacation yessssss) and I sincerely hope this chapter lived up to expectations! 
> 
> (And I know they didn't even really talk this chapter but like, I'll make up for it next time ヽ(〃v〃)ﾉ )


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri breaks a promise, and Viktor asks the real questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, it's another introspective chapter. I'm starting to question myself. Sadly I had to push the free skate to the next chapter... but at least then you'll be getting 99% Viktor and Yuuri interaction. Maybe 95. *cough*
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for your lovely comments and for patiently awaiting the next chapter! I can feel the pressure haha, but I do hope there will be some good feels for you. Uni finally ended for now, so I'll have more time to write, I hope. But these chapters are all turning into literal beasts so it's a struggle lol. But I will do my best!!
> 
> Some NSFW content in this chapter!! Just in case you're reading where others might see. It's pretty short and soon after the middle point. Easy to skip if it's not your thing, it's actually pretty mild. The good stuff I'm saving for later;)
> 
> Reminder about Viktor's pet name for Yuuri:  
> 'zolotsye moyo' - Russian for 'golden' or 'my sweetheart'. I originally spelled it 'zolotse' like I've seen a lot in fics, but Vasilek (c0rnfl0wer on ao3, do check out his fics) has made a great post about how to use Russian pet names etc. so this is where I'm putting my trust. 
> 
> There's a lot going on in this chapter, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it. It's also pride month, so here's to Viktor and Yuuri finally giving me that #relationship goals anime I needed in life! And to each and every one of you - your identity is valid, you deserve happiness, and let's all support each other<3
> 
> ヽ(o♡o)/

One of the downsides to being a competitive skater is the fact that you need sponsors. In order to maintain these sponsors, you have to do things for them, like photo shoots for ads, or recording commercials.

A year and a half ago Yuuri’s then largest sponsor was a sportswear brand, and Celestino made a deal with them to make one of these commercials. Usually Yuuri is very happy to leave such things to his coach, because he is not good at negotiating his own worth in money, but the fact remains that skating is expensive and sponsors are needed and so on and so forth. The commercial in question was supposed to feature both winter and summer wear, which meant Yuuri skating, but also, Yuuri hoisting himself out of a pool in a tiny pair of swim shorts.

He’s fairly certain Phichit still has the pair lying around somewhere.

Anyway, not only was the pool scene extremely awkward to film, _because_ he was so awkward they decided to bring in a female model as well to balance things out. It did not balance things out. After three days of attempts, Yuuri was desperate enough to lock himself into a bathroom and stare at pictures of Viktor until he could conjure up his image easily, and then proceeded to pretend the model was Viktor and Yuuri was his fancy husband being helped out of their private pool so they could go inside and feed each other strawberries or whatever it was fancy people did.

Unfortunately the innocent daydream worked a little _too_ well, and once the commercial was out the model’s fans went ballistic, convinced they were secretly dating or at the very least had shared nights of passion on-site. It might have had something to do with the interview she had done shortly after the release at a moderately popular talk show, where she had giggled and not-so-subtly pointed out Yuuri’s supposed handsomeness and firm muscles and what a great time they had together while filming and yes, she would _love_ to see him again.

Needless to say, the JSF hadn’t been happy about it and neither had Celestino. Yuuri had nightmares for weeks about reporters asking him about it at his next competition and starting to dig through his (severely lacking) love life, but by a small miracle the rumors about the two of them stayed mostly within the Japanese circles.

The commercial sadly didn’t, and Yuuri has become extremely adamant about finding out what exactly commercials are supposed to entail before accepting them since then, despite Phichit’s insistence that the close-up of Yuuri’s backside as he climbed out of the pool was a gift to mankind.

Still, Yuuri is deathly afraid of mixing his personal life into the things he does for sponsorships, which is why he’s spent the past minutes with the happenings of the past flashing through his mind like a huge warning sign while one of his sponsors keeps pitching his latest idea for the ad Yuuri’s supposed to do for the company after Nationals.

He’s done with his second interview of the day, but he should have known Yamada-san would be lurking around. The man is nice enough, very passionate about sponsoring his skating despite the fact that his parents’ company sells kitchenware, and just impossible to have a conversation with.

“-it will be perfect, Katsuki-san, just you, Nikiforov-san, and little Yuri-kun cooking dinner together after practice. I think we can promote the newest line of pots, maybe if you make curry? Something simple and nutritious, yes, or we can start with you finishing skating and coming home to a home-cooked meal, Yuri-kun stirring the pot and then running over to open the door for you, what do you think? The kitchen should be modern of course, I’ll have to talk with our partners, but perhaps a bit of an American feel to it? I’m not sure what Russian kitchens look like so it might be best to stick with something standard for now-“

Yuuri’s fairly certain his soul has left his body and is now drifting somewhere by the ceiling, bumping back and forth like a lost balloon. Yamada keeps talking, ideas bursting from him in endless waves, this and that and _domestic feeling_ and whatever he can think of to earn money on Viktor and Yuuri’s relationship.

Except it’s not a relationship.

Yuuri has no idea where Yamada got this idea in his head that Viktor has _ever_ cooked him a meal in their entire lives (can Viktor even cook? Yuuri’s not so sure) but he knows he needs to stop him. And he would, if his soul hadn’t oh so conveniently escaped mortal life. It’s busy bumping into ceilings and acting out dream scenarios where Viktor greets him in an apron with a kiss to his cheek and homemade katsudon after his mother’s recipe, and frankly it makes such a nice image that he forgets about Yamada for a while.

Unfortunately Yamada does not forget about _him,_ falling silent at last and politely waiting for Yuuri to show his excitement towards the idea.

“I’ll… think about it,” he forces out, inwardly grimacing both at the lame reply and the sad fact that he would, indeed, think about it (just not in terms of commercials).

“Ah, of course! Take your time, Katsuki-san!”

Yuuri escapes the conversation with a nagging feeling in his stomach, biting his lips as he considers going back online just to see what the _hell_ is going on. First Morooka, then the second interviewer asking him how he and Viktor would celebrate when he (maybe) wins gold, and now Yamada wanting to expand Yuuri’s target demographic to families.

It’s better than swim shorts, but the thought of adding Viktor and Yuri to one of his sponsored commercials is strange to say the least.

Strange, but also nice. At the very least it’s incredibly distracting, and Yuuri drags his feet towards the lobby where he’s supposed to meet up with Phichit. Maybe he can ask if there’s some misunderstanding going around that makes people like Yamada-san assume the impossible, and then just deal with it after skating tonight.

Or he can pretend nothing happened. It’s a good plan, one he’s gone through with many times before, though it usually comes back to bite him in the ass. _Or_ he could take a detour into a restroom and check twitter for like, two seconds? He still needs to google that thing Viktor called him last night…

It’s a sad thing that Yuuri has asked Phichit to change the passwords for all his social media accounts during the competition. It’s the easiest way to keep him from checking what people are saying, but technically the apps are still accessible… And there’s still Google. Google is his friend, right? His thumb hovers over the browser app, hesitating, and the result is that he almost drops his phone when it lights up with Phichit’s face and the incoming call.

Well, that was close.

“Yes?” he says into the phone, hoping he doesn’t sound like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“ _Yuuri, what’s taking so long? I can only take selfies with ice dancers for so long!”_

 “You once spent two hours taking the perfect selfie at an airport,” Yuuri reminds him, swallowing down the guilt at almost breaking his most important promise – do _not_ check social media during competitions. “I’ll be there in a minute, a sponsor caught me.”

_“You know, if Viktor wasn’t like, two meters away from me I’d accuse you of sneaking off with him for a  little one-on-one practice se-“_

“Okay! See you in a second!”

Yuuri ends the call with a pounding heart, wishing he could walk in the opposite direction instead. He doesn’t want to face Viktor like this, doesn’t want to think about _anything_ but his free skate right now.

Then again, he doesn’t have much more time left to see Viktor. He can handle it. He’s an adult (not a very good adult, but that’s beside the point), and adults can definitely be around gorgeous people before competing in the grand prix.

He draws in a deep breath, another, a third, fires off a little pep talk in his mind and slaps his thighs for luck.

“Are you okay?”

Yuuri produces a strangled noise, almost tripping over his own feet as he whips his head around to apologize profusely to the ISU official giving him a weird look, high-tailing it out of there once he’s back on his feet.

He’s not sure he can do this.

♡♡♡

“ _Phichit_.”

Viktor’s ears pick up the hiss easily, considering it’s _Yuuri_ doing the hissing.

“ _Phichit, over here!”_

The Thai skater looks amused as he shuffles over to where Yuuri is half-hidden behind a large commercial banner. Despite Viktor’s efforts he can’t overhear their whispered conversation, though he can pick out Yuuri’s increasing agitation and Phichit’s laughter. He wonders what he’s missing out on, but mostly he wonders why Yuuri isn’t talking to _him_. Whatever’s going on, Viktor is sure he can help. He’s great at helping, really. He could spend his whole life listening to Yuuri’s problems, for sure.

It takes him five seconds to realize that Yura has slipped out of his grip, and that’s all his son needs to reach Phichit and Yuuri and successfully launch himself at them.

Viktor doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how Yuuri’s face softens whenever he talks to Yuri. He can’t help the smile on his face as he walks over to join them, resisting the urge to reach out and brush Yuuri’s bangs aside when he bends his head down.

“Yura, you shouldn’t sneak up on others,” he scolds, but his son is too busy tugging at Phichit’s hand to care.

“Are we going yet? Dad said I can get some more capsules at the mall after we eat, I want to see if they have any good ones!”

“Sure, let’s- oh!” Phichit grins, directing a small wink at Viktor before leaning down towards Yuri. “Look, some junior skaters! Do you want to talk to them? You might compete against each other soon!”

Yuri’s face brightens and he nods eagerly, and by the time Viktor has processed the wink they’re both gone, leaving him alone with Yuuri.

He really needs to do something nice for Phichit.

“Hi,” he says to Yuuri, tilting his head to try and meet his eyes. “Everything alright?”

“Great!” Yuuri still doesn’t look at him, but at least he raises his face a bit. “It’s all great, how are you?”

Yuuri winces, and Viktor can’t help but laugh a little at how adorable he is.

“Nervous, zolotsye?” he asks, finding one of Yuuri’s hands and squeezing it lightly. “It’s almost time.”

“N-no,” Yuuri stammers, dark eyes flickering towards Viktor’s before hurriedly focusing on the few people wandering about. “Practice went fine.”

“True!” Viktor smiles wider, still so impressed with how in awe everyone seemed as Yuuri skated. “You were wonderful, no one could take their eyes off you. I’m so excited to see you perform later!”

“Oh.” Yuuri blushes a pretty red, fingers twitching lightly in Viktor’s hold. “I just hope I get my jumps right this time.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Viktor keeps smiling, and eventually Yuuri peeks at him from behind his glasses and smiles back, a little shy. It _does_ things to Viktor, robs him of his breath too easily. The urge to squish Yuuri’s cute cheeks and smother him in praise is almost embarrassingly strong, but Viktor prides himself in staying absolutely still even as his cheeks start to hurt from too much smiling.

He isn’t sure how long they stand like this, though it can’t be long (it certainly feels much too short) before Phichit returns with Yura in tow.

“Wow, little Yuri has made some rivals already!” Phichit exclaims, grabbing Yura’s shoulders and shaking him encouragingly. “Everyone’s going to have to look out once he starts competing.”

“I’ll beat everyone,” Yuri declares, and Viktor is only mildly sad when Yuuri drops his hand to ruffle Yuri’s hair.

“You’ll have to practice really hard in that case,” Yuuri tells him, and his smile is so _soft_ and Viktor is so _gone_. “But you can do it.”

His son preens under the praise, and Viktor has to crouch down and pull him in for a tight hug.

“You can win everything if you want,” he agrees, smacking a kiss to Yura’s temple, “but you should still be nice to competitors, okay?”

“I was nice!” Yuri squirms in his arms, groaning when Viktor lifts him up instead. “And I can walk!”

“Aww, let your poor dad carry you for old time’s sake!” he coos, “you’re growing up too fast!”

Phichit is laughing into his hand, but Viktor only cares about Yuuri’s reaction. The younger man looks happy, if a little exasperated, but he’s still smiling and Viktor’s heart soars.

“We should get going, Yuuri needs to rest,” Phichit tells them, clearing his throat in an attempt to appear responsible.

“Phichit! You’re competing too!”

When Phichit shrugs and winks at Viktor again he has to wonder if it’s just something he does, or if there’s some hidden meaning he’s supposed to pick up on.

“You’ll be watching the competition now, right?” Phichit directs the question at Viktor, who nods in agreement.

“We’ll go back to the hotel to eat first, so we can walk with you a bit.”

“Sure you can,” Phichit drawls, nudging Yuuri’s side and receiving a slap to the arm for his efforts.

Is it bad that Viktor feels like he’s in a high school romance? He adjusts his grip on Yura and trails the two skaters towards the exit, refusing to admit that his son really is getting too big for carrying around comfortably.

“Papa,” Yuri whispers, and why he feels the need to whisper in Russian is beyond Viktor. “Remember how Phichit thinks Yuuri should coach me, too?”

“Oh, does he?”

“Yeah, he said so! I told you! You have to ask him!”

“Not in the middle of the competition, Yurochka.”

“But _later_ ,” Yuri insists, poking his cheek. “I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“Wow!” Viktor feigns shock, passing through the door and thanking Phichit for holding it open for him. “You’re definitely too young to start thinking like that!”

“Yeah, but you always say that when you don’t want to wait for stuff. Like when Yuuri’s new posters take a week to ship.”

Ah, touché. What is Viktor supposed to say to that?

“Alright, I think you can walk from here,” he says instead of replying, switching back to English.

Yuri pouts, but then brightens up and squeezes between Yuuri and Phichit, grabbing their hands and launching into a very serious discussion on skater statistics as they walk. If Viktor had a little more guts (and there weren’t people with cameras all over) he’d walk up to Yuuri’s other side and take his hand as well. Sure, he wouldn’t fit on the sidewalk, but that’s just a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

Instead he walks behind them, watching how all the people heading over to the arena stare unabashedly at the four of them. Mostly they stare at Yuuri with excitement, or gush over how cute Yura is. In the end, Viktor can’t help himself. Not that he tried very hard, but still. He picks his phone up and snaps a quick picture of their backs, Yuuri smiling down at Yura and Phichit laughing about something. It’s a good picture, honestly, and Viktor smiles as he posts it.

Too soon they need to separate, Viktor and Yuri heading for the restaurant at their own hotel while the skaters get some rest. At first he’d planned to eat at the mall next to the arena, but with the media hype right now he figured it was better to go somewhere calmer. When he’d told Yura exactly how many comments he’d removed, his son had angrily demanded to know why and what they said. It was sweet, how he wanted to fight anyone leaving mean comments for Yuuri, but on the other hand, Viktor had been at a loss over what to say.

He’d settled for saying they’d been arguing in the comments about stupid things like proper ballet techniques and Georgi being better than Yuuri. He’s pretty sure that Yuri is still suspicious, but he’d at least dropped the issue. He sure hopes no more comments have rolled in because he’s completely forgotten to check since the start of Yuuri’s practice.

“Papa?”

Yuri has a serious frown on his face, and Viktor can’t help a small sense of dread.

“Yes, Yurochka?”

“How many capsules can I get?”

Viktor blinks at him.

“Papa? How many?”

“Oh,” Viktor sighs, relieved he’s the only one thinking of the video and its comments. “Let’s see how many nice ones there are, okay?”

“Then I want _all_ of them,” Yuri declares, a determined look forming on his face.

Viktor is thankful that capsule machines don’t accept credit cards.

♡♡♡

[image]

♥ 2,479 likes

 **v-nikiforov** Time for lunch and some rest! **@yuri_katsuki** and **@Phichit+chu** looking great at practice this morning!

#nhktrophy #yurikatsuki #phichitchulanont #davai!

_View all 78 comments_

                             **christophegc** Can’t believe you’re not letting me join!

                             **BladesOnFire** OMG SO CUTE

                             **mila-b** Aww Yura looks adorable

                             **Leo-iglesia** We should all have breakfast together tomorrow!

                             **skaterfan15** THEY REALLY ARE FRIENDS OMFG

                             **katsuki+ice** Dude keep up they’re totally more than friends

                             **skaterfan15** I MEANT PHICHIT AND VIKTOR

                             **skaterfan15** I DON’T CARE ABOUT YUURI

                             **Yurisnr1angel** I’m crying look at him being so happy with his idol ;__;

                             **katsuki+ice** **@skaterfan15** OH IT’S ON

♡♡♡

Phichit can’t stop laughing. He knows he’s supposed to take it easy, having lunch with Yuuri and Celestino in Yuuri’s hotel room, but he just _can’t_. Celestino is giving him weird looks, but Yuuri seems much too occupied with his lunch to notice. Maybe he’s just used to Phichit randomly breaking out in laughter while looking at his phone screen. Usually it’s funny animal videos, but well. Viktor sure is digging himself a deep hole, and Phichit knows he should be a nice friend and try to do some damage control…

On the other hand, he has about a billion notifications of people begging him to answer the question everyone is dying to know. If he doesn’t answer, things will just continue to escalate. If he replies vaguely, it’ll probably explode. If he replies in the negative, Viktor might think Yuuri is uninterested, which is the exact opposite of the truth. He definitely can’t ask Yuuri about it, because with mere hours until the free skate the last thing he wants is for Yuuri to freak out. He kind of needs to talk to Ciao Ciao about it but Yuuri will get suspicious for sure.

So what _can_ he do but laugh? It’s so obvious that they’re both into each other, and he thinks Viktor would be good for Yuuri. The level of dedication the man shows… It doesn’t help that the dance video has blown up again, steadily increasing in likes. Possibly it reached the Japanese side of Yuuri’s fandom. He grins at the thought of all those middle aged women cooing over Yuuri’s love life, though Yuuri does have fans of all genders and ages. The middle aged women are Phichit’s favorite though.

In the midst of memories of Yuuri’s most dedicated fans knitting little figurines of him, Yuuri’s phone vibrates with a text message. Phichit thinks nothing of it, until his friend goes first white, then red, then green in the face.

“Yuuri?” Celestino asks, looking concerned.

Phichit immediately scoots over, staring at the Japanese on the screen.

“Yuuri, what does it say?”

“They’re- um, they’re going to have a public viewing at the onsen,” Yuuri mumbles, a gurgling noise escaping his throat. “Yuuko’s kids are organizing it.”

“Oh. Well that’s nice, isn’t it!”

Yuuri produces more gurgling noises, and Celestino slaps him reassuringly on the back.

“Yuuri, your family is so supportive! Just skate your best for them!”

Shoulders hunched, Yuuri returns to shovelling food into his mouth, and Phichit is momentarily worried he’s gone from inspired to stressed. With Yuuri it can be like flipping a switch, one second he’s an unbeatable athlete, the next he’s an anxious university student running as far away from attention as possible.

Considering this is his reaction to knowing his family will be watching the free skate, Phichit can only imagine the catastrophe if Yuuri’s family mentioned Viktor in a less than platonic manner. In any manner at all, probably.

Phichit may have to resort to his secret weapon.

While Yuuri’s sister can be intimidating, Phichit has learnt a _lot_ about Yuuri from Mari. She’s a blessing, really, and he has no doubts that she’s known about Yuuri’s crush on Viktor since before Yuuri knew himself. Maybe a call from her would be good, he thinks, worrying his lip between teeth while Yuuri gulps down water.

Quickly finding her number on his phone, he sends off a short message explaining the situation.

Five minutes later, Yuuri’s phone chimes with an incoming call. Yuuri scrambles to pick it up, excusing himself to talk in private, and Phichit finds himself alone with Celestino.

“So,” Celestino says, clearing his throat and glancing at the door where Yuuri disappeared a few seconds ago. “It’s finally happening, huh?”

“Yeah,” Phichit sighs, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Our son is growing up and finding love.”

Ciao Ciao lets out a booming laugh at that, and Phichit is thankful that he’s taking it so well. Nothing can really shake Celestino, but sometimes he tends to shrug off things that in Yuuri’s world are a Big Deal. (Of course, Phichit doesn’t always notice himself, but he does try.)

“You know, I talked to Yakov last night. We were all drinking and he wouldn’t stop telling everyone how happy he is that Viktor isn’t a skater because he probably wouldn’t have any hair left in that case.”

Phichit snorts, because Viktor doesn’t seem so bad to him. Just very enthusiastic.

“Did Yuuri tell you that Viktor came to see him in the skaters’ area yesterday after the short program?”

“What?! No, he didn’t.” Phichit can’t believe this. How didn’t he know?

“Yes, he forced Yakov to let him in. So many reporters are hounding me to publish the pictures from it but so far I’ve managed to keep things under wraps.”

Phichit has some newfound respect for Ciao Ciao. Well, that’s why he’s a coach, after all, because he’s good at these things.

“Did they send you the pictures?”

Celestino raises an eyebrow, but unlocks his phone and scrolls through it for a moment.

“Just some thumbnails,” he says, and Phichit eagerly opens the photos attached to the email.

There’s Yuuri holding Yuri, smiling at him and kissing his temple. Then there’s Viktor, standing with flowers in his arms and a pure look of adoration on his face, like it’s physically hurting him to be separated from Yuuri. And then there’s Phichit’s instant favorite, Viktor standing in front of Yuuri and pushing the flowers onto him, Yuuri wide-eyed and blushing.

Damn, these will need to be acquired for the wedding.

“They’re good,” he says, whistling at the price they’re willing to pay for an exclusive interview including these photos.

“And Yuuri would probably faint if he saw them. I’m not sure how to bring this up with him after the free skate, but he’s going to have to make some kind of comment at least.”

They both sigh, knowing how Yuuri reacted last time someone thought he was dating in secret. This time it’s even worse, considering he _wants_ to date Viktor.

“But, Phichit,” Celestino says, and Phichit can tell he’s about to be lectured. “You’ll be skating too, and I don’t want you distracted by this. Focus on yourself and let me handle things with Yuuri! The free skate is where it counts, you know.”

Oh, of course Phichit knows. Not that he will make it to the final, but he _is_ trying to make it higher in the rankings. It will put him in a better position for Worlds, and he’s aiming for top ten.

“Will do!” he promises, reluctantly resigning himself to stop checking all the posts about Yuuri until the competition is over.

It will be hard, but he can do it. The promise feels easier to uphold when Yuuri returns, looking calmer after talking to his sister.

He’s sure things will work out in the end.

♡♡♡

Yuri is carrying about ten little plastic balls in his arms, refusing to put them in Viktor’s bag. He seems pleased with his selection, even though there were some complaints that the mall didn’t have enough _neko atsume_ , which Viktor knows is something about cats. It’s sad but true that Yuri loves cats, even though having Makkachin should make him a dog person like Viktor.

Either way Viktor is glad that Yuri seems so happy, and he really can’t thank Yuuri enough (and Phichit, and the other skaters as well) for being so incredibly nice to him. He knows that Yuri tries his best in school, but it’s hard to not have anything in common with the other kids. It was easier for Viktor, going to a school for other ballet dancers and music prodigies and the like, so he never had to interact with people who didn’t share his interest in it after the age of nine. Sadly figure skating doesn’t fit into any schools like that…

It’s a good school, because Viktor can afford it, but he still worries that Yuri’s only friends are adult figure skaters. You’d think he’d at least make friends with the other kids in his skating classes.

He glances down at Yuri, the pleased smile on his cute little face, and wishes he could keep him this happy all the time. It’s still overwhelming sometimes, that Yuri is his _child_ , that Viktor _made him_ , whether intentional or not. Viktor is responsible for his happiness, and going to skating competitions and buying capsules with little toys in them is the easy part.

Trying to juggle the weekdays is harder. It gets easier, as Yuri grows older, but Viktor makes mistakes and Yuri doesn’t forget quickly. He knows it’s his own fault, for leaving Yuri, and then Yuri was left by his mother too for a while. And Viktor works a lot, often from home but it’s still _work_ , and Yuri deserves so much more attention. Sometimes it’s just so hard to be alone, and not know if he’s doing things right or not.

Yuri drops one of the capsules. They watch it roll away from them, stopping by an empty bench surrounded by plants, and then Viktor heads over to pick it up.

“Want me to carry it, Yurochka?”

Yuri shakes his head, stubborn, and Viktor carefully places it on top of the others balanced in his arms.

If someone had told Viktor when he was young that the most important thing in his life would be his son, he would have imagined himself being way over thirty when it happened. But Viktor was nineteen and dismissed Yuri with a shrug and _I’m sorry_ , _if you keep it I won’t be involved_. It’s something he’s found out later is pretty common for young accidental fathers, and yet he doubts he’ll ever forgive himself. He should have been better. He should have _done_ better, but he does have Yuri here, now, fumbling to rearrange the capsules so they won’t fall.

He wants Yuri to be always happy, and yet-

Selfishly, desperately, he wishes he could have Yuuri, too. Why must life be so complicated? Even if Yuuri liked him back and Yuri was perfectly fine with it, there’s the whole problem with living in different countries, and Yuuri’s career and his own career, and Yuri’s grandpa living in Moscow.

There’s a reason he didn’t answer when Olesya called an hour or so ago. It isn’t terribly rare for Yuri’s mother to call him, but there is a possibility the call isn’t just to be polite. He wants to talk to Yuri, first.

And he knows that Olesya wants Yuri to come live with her again, because like Viktor, she made mistakes and wants to make up for them. Still, Viktor currently has sole custody. Yuri visits her sometimes, in London where she lives with her sister, but Viktor thinks their relationship is still a little wobbly and he is not looking to trade Yuri for a husband. Boyfriend. Whatever.

The worst thing is how much Yura likes Yuuri. It means Viktor can’t screw up. It means he absolutely, under no circumstances, can pick his own feelings for Yuuri over his son’s admiration of the man. It’s not a problem if he and Yuuri get married and live happily ever after, but it’s definitely a problem if they try and _don’t_. It means he’s stuck in limbo, in thinking of what _could_ be when everything tells him he can’t ask for it.

Viktor screwed up once, walking out on Yura. He doesn’t want to walk out on Yuuri, but pursuing him could mean that Yuri feels left out, betrayed, like Viktor made himself more important in Yuuri’s life. Which isn’t the plan, of course, because if he is ever entering a relationship it has to be with someone who likes Yuri more than they like _him_.

“Papa?”

Oh. He’s been staring into nothing while Yuri worked on the logistics of capsule-carrying, not noticing that he’s finished by now.

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

“About Yuuri?”

Viktor blinks, taken aback.

“I…”

“There’s a poster of him over there, see? You were staring at it.”

It’s not even a poster, it’s a life-sized cardboard cut-out. Viktor thinks he’s in love with it. Cardboard Yuuri is wearing his short program costume from Worlds last spring, an outfit that still haunts Viktor’s dreams (in a good way). The pants are regular black ones, but the shirt is a dark blue v-neck that clings to Yuuri’s chest like a second skin, the v slightly too deep to wear in public. Around his throat is a broad black choker, and Viktor knows he wasn’t the only one drooling at the sight during Worlds.

No wonder he was subconsciously staring at it.

“We should take a picture with it,” Yuri decides, walking over before Viktor can even gather his wits again.

At least it makes Yuri put all the capsules in Viktor’s bag, and luckily two other skating fans are there for pictures as well so they can help each other out.

“Tell Yuuri good luck!” the couple says when they leave, and Viktor smiles with a thumbs-up.

It’s only after a moment that he realizes they recognized him, and instantly connected him with Yuuri. Or they recognized Yura, but Viktor bites the inside of his cheek and looks down at Yuri, who’s now busying himself with his phone since his hands have been freed.

“Yura,” he starts, clearing his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Yuri keeps his eyes glued to his phone, scrolling in deep concentration.

“Mm,” he replies, most likely not listening, but Viktor plows ahead before he loses heart.

“Say I wanted to get married…”

Yuri’s head whips up, eyes wide. Viktor almost cracks a joke about marrying Yuuri’s cardboard poster, but he knows he has to ask. He can’t walk around being interested in Yuuri and not even ask Yuri how he feels about his dad going on a date.

“Do you think you’d be okay with getting another dad? Someone you like, of course. And he has to like you, too. A lot. And Makkachin has to accept him of course, and it’s probably not happening anyway but well.”

Viktor throws his hands out, as if him getting married or not is outside his control. Like he doesn’t have a choice but to ask, and maybe he doesn’t, because _feelings_ aren’t something you can control.

“Why are you getting married?” Yuri asks sharply, narrowed eyes boring into Viktor.

“I’m not,” he hurries to explain, “but I might want to. In the future. Sometime.”

Yuri’s eyes narrow until they’re almost closed, the grip on his phone tightening. Viktor knows the telltale signs of a fight, and regrets asking this in public. He was never one for making great life decisions, but asking his son if he’d be okay with Viktor hypothetically getting married while standing in front of a cardboard version of the man he wants to marry-

Well, Viktor has certainly made _better_ life decisions.

“Only if I find someone perfect,” he adds, adjusting the strap on his messenger bag, avoiding eye contact. “And if you’re okay with it. That’s why I’m asking now, and not- I mean, we never talked about me potentially dating someone.”

He winces. He really should have asked this at a better time, because Olesya left Yuri after meeting what she thought was the love of her life, and Yuri is probably going to tell him he can’t ever date anyone, or get really really upset, and Viktor should have-

“Only Yuuri is perfect.”

Sucking in a breath, Viktor glances at Yuri. He’s fiddling with his phone now, a sullen look on his face. Even so, Viktor can’t help the tiny glimmer of hope in his chest.

“So you can’t date anyone,” Yuri mumbles, angrily scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor.

“What if I date Yuuri.”

The words leave Viktor in a rush, before he can think them through. He holds his breath, skin prickling anxiously as his son furrows his brows at the question.

“There were comments,” Yuri surprises him with, the words barely audible. “On your picture of me and Yuuri and Phichit. That you and Yuuri are dating.”

Unsure of what to say, Viktor swallows thickly.

“I… didn’t see that.”

“Well, are you?!”

“Oh! No, of course not. I’d tell you, I mean I would ask first, so-“

“Are you asking now?”

They stare at each other, Yuri small and bristling with anger, Viktor floundering for the right thing to say.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Yuri crosses his arms, glaring at him, and Viktor thinks they really shouldn’t do this next to cardboard Yuuri. It makes it feel like he’s not real, an impossibility, too good for Viktor at the very least.

He takes a deep breath, pushing back some hair from his face and glancing around them. No one seems to be listening, but there are definitely people nearby. A glance at Yuri tells him this isn’t the time for lies, though.

“I like him,” he sighs, dropping his hands and shaking his head slightly. “I think he’s amazing, so of course I like him. I wish we could see him every day.”

At this, Yuri’s eyes widen. He stares at Viktor, forgetting to scowl, as if he never connected dating with seeing someone all the time. Though, for all Viktor knows, it’s possible he hasn’t.

“We can see him every day?” Yuri’s expression shifts into excitement, and Viktor can hear the alarms going off inside his head.

“Not immediately,” he says, biting his lip at the shadow of disappointment on his son’s face. “I mean, you know we live in different countries. It can be difficult to move. You have to go to school, and-”

“I don’t need school,” Yuri scoffs, “not if I can skate with Yuuri.”

“You still need school.”

“I don’t!”

Viktor opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut again with a frustrated noise. This conversation is heading in entirely the wrong direction.

“Yura,” he sighs, holding out his hand until Yuri takes it. “It’s more complicated than that. But you’re the most important person in my life and I want you to be happy.”

“I’ll be happy if I can be with Yuuri every day,” Yuri chirps, tugging at Viktor’s hand.

He can’t help but smile, and pull Yuri in for a tight hug. He presses his mouth to the top of Yuri’s head, deciding to go through all the comments on all the posts they’ve made recently to make sure it’s all clear. There’s still more to talk about, but for now, he’s glad that at the very least Yuuri is important to the both of them.

“Me too, Yura. Me too.”

♡♡♡

[image]

♥ 1,309 likes

 **v-nikiforov** Not as good as the real **@yuri_katsuki** but still cute <3 So excited for the free skate!

#nhktrophy #yurikatsuki #yuriplisetsky #davai! #canitfitinmybag #ineedoneofthese

_View all 27 comments_

                             **yuri-plisetsky** HE’S SUPER AWESOME NOT CUTE

                             **mila-b** He’ll fit if you throw all your clothes out ;)

                             **v-nikiforov @mila-b** ( ；∀；) Who needs clothes when you can have Yuuri

                             **katsuki+ice** I’M OFFICIALLY DEAD

♡♡♡

Yuuri feels better after talking to his sister, still not sure why she called but glad that she did. Better, but still a bit on edge. He’s alone now, supposed to spend an hour or so resting up as Celestino so nicely put it, but all he can do is lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling with thoughts swirling through his mind.

This competition is, after all, not just any competition. It’s the one he thought would be his very last entry in the grand prix, whether or not he truly believed in his resolve to retire. The thing is, he came to Japan thinking he was saying goodbye to this part of his life, and now it seems the very opposite is happening.

If the free skate goes well, that is.

It all comes down to _Viktor_ , and the embarrassing truth that Yuuri’s motivation this time is based on seducing a man. If he were to be honest with himself – really, truly honest, not just the kind of honest where he sort of glosses over the cringe-y parts – he spent a big chunk of last night imagining what might happen if he wins with Viktor’s choreography. How happy would Viktor be? Would he say yes, if Yuuri asked him to spend more time together?

The thought warms him from the inside out, and he puts a finger to his lip where Viktor touched him after the short program. If he breaks the current record, would Viktor touch him again? Maybe Yuuri could find some confidence and touch _him_ …

He knows he shouldn’t, especially not _now_ , but he still fumbles for his phone and opens up youtube. It’s the one app he hasn’t handed over to Phichit, because there’s not much to see about the competition there unless he wants to listen to the commentators, maybe. What it does have is a playlist of Viktor’s dancing, one that Yuuri made for himself on his secret, unofficial account. Not that he needs to click on his profile – he simply types in one of his favorites, an entry to a competition that Viktor choreographed himself, then settles on his side and props the phone up against an extra pillow.

Viktor is younger here, but no less beautiful. He moves with a steady grace that Yuuri can only dream of replicating, a sureness down to his very fingertips that doesn’t flaunt confidence but leaves no room to doubt it’s there. Yuuri knows that sometimes, though rarely, he can feel the same kind of confidence on the ice; for Viktor, it’s as if it’s part of his very being.

It’s one of many things that make him so alluring to Yuuri, and sometimes Yuuri wonders if, were they close for long enough, some of that surety would seep into Yuuri as well. Whenever Viktor is on stage with other people he seems to lend them his confidence, making every dance more wonderful, every scene more meaningful.

To be loved by someone like that…

It burns, thinking about it. It’s not something he deserves, but he’s already been over this with himself so many times. He can’t help that he wants Viktor, can’t help his admiration and longing, or the way his body breaks out in shivers whenever they touch.

Even now, just looking, he can feel his breaths shorten, his pulse quickening.

Viktor makes him feel things he isn’t sure how to deal with, a simultaneous rush of desire and despair. At practice, he’d felt as if he could do anything as long as Viktor’s eyes were on him, but now, he thinks this _anything_ might not have much to do with skating at all.

He stares at Viktor’s long legs, how they flex and lift in perfect sync with the music, imagines sitting on them, imagines Viktor’s hands holding his hips steady as Yuuri’s fingers get tangled in his hair. He wants to know what it’s like, to press his mouth against that pale neck and leave marks. Would Viktor gasp, slide his hands up Yuuri’s back and then down again to grab his ass and pull him closer? Would he tilt his head back and offer himself up, all for Yuuri to have and take?

He bites his lips, shoves his cheek further into the pillow but still looking, still tracing the long lines of Viktor’s body with his gaze, hands gripping lightly at the sheets.

The room is too warm, even in November, even in his t-shirt, and Viktor continues to move like he was thought up in a dream and danced his way into reality.

It’s not until his hand is cupping his groin through his old, ratty sweatpants that Yuuri realizes how aroused he is. By this point it’s too late, he’s too worked up, the competition forgotten. He groans, squirming on the bed, palming at himself the way he only does when Phichit isn’t home and he’s watched Viktor too many times. He doesn’t want to admit how Viktor’s close proximity the past days has thrown his mind into the gutter, but here they are, the thoughts of being _touched_ , of being _held_ , of Viktor’s lips at the base of his neck and Viktor’s chest against his back, his hand closing over Yuuri’s.

Shivering, Yuuri gives in to the fantasy and closes his eyes, breathing hard into the mattress. He works his hand underneath the waistband, precum wetting his fingertips when they brush over his cock. He’s hard, and so so needy, but he thinks Viktor would tease him and so that’s what he does, trailing his fingers lightly up and down the shaft and ignoring the white-hot coil in his gut that screams at him to hurry up.

He thinks Viktor would laugh, the sound low and intimate in Yuuri’s ear, then ask him if there’s anything he needs? _Tell me what you want, Yuuri_.

Yuuri wants–

So much. He wants so much, things he can’t have, but right now he wants to know what it would feel like, if Viktor pressed himself up against Yuuri’s ass, if he took Yuuri in his hand and squeezed, kept breathing into his ear how good he is, how Viktor wants him, how much he loves him…

It’s almost too easy to let go, when he thinks of Viktor. The music stops playing as he catches his breath, his hand uncomfortably sticky, his body limp and buzzing pleasantly. It’s not like he _wants_ to get off to thoughts of a man who is too perfect for someone like him – but he was being honest with himself, wasn’t he. _And that’s the sad truth_ , his mind supplies him with. _You’re so far gone that no one else will ever measure up_.

He draws in a shaky breath, pushing the thought far, far away, when someone’s voice startles him back to reality.

It is, _thank god_ , just the next video playing automatically. He’s about to exit the app when the title catches his name, and a noise that doesn’t sound entirely human claws up his throat.

_10 reasons Viktor Nikiforov is Yuuri Katsuki’s secret boyfriend!_

_Why_ is this video playing, wait, no- _WHY_ does a video like this exist at all?! Did he wake up in a different dimension after cumming? Did he fall asleep and is now in the middle of a nightmare?

He almost stabs the phone with his finger when he presses pause, hyperventilating. It doesn’t help, because the video is still there, and Yuuri drops the phone and scurries off to the bathroom instead.

He takes a shower, forcing himself to calm down as well as he can, hoping he doesn’t become sluggish after he was dumb enough to masturbate before the free skate. At least worrying about the free skate grounds him, brings some sense of normalcy back into his life. Probably his orgasm-befuddled brain was just making things up. It happens. He once accidentally slept for 15 hours and woke up thinking he still lived in Hasetsu and was late for high school, despite having been in Detroit for years. Surely imagining a youtube video isn’t the strangest thing he’s done before.  

Before he finishes showering he turns the water to icy cold, letting it blast onto his face until he feels human again.

He dresses in his costume, struggling to fit all the pieces together on his own. For _Stammi Vicino_ he wears a shimmering blue jacket with silver details over a black dress shirt, his hair slicked back. Last time Viktor said he looked good in it, which is nice, and then his mind is instantly stuck on that video again and he all but runs to grab his phone from the bed.

When he unlocks it, the video is still there, mocking him.

He presses play anyway, for the first time deliberately breaking his no-social-media-rule all the while screeching internally.

Vaguely, he thinks he recognizes the person talking as a fairly popular skating vlogger, because Phichit once sent him a link to a theory about how his hamsters were taking up too much of his time, thus putting Phichit lower in the scoreboards. Sure, that had been a drunk vlog, which this one sadly doesn’t seem to be.

By the fourth reason that Viktor is actually somehow his secret boyfriend – as if Yuuri would keep it secret – he’s sitting on the bed gnawing on a thumb; by the sixth he’s making dying whale noises and by the ninth he’s not sure if he’s weirded out or crying from how plausible the theories are.

Is this video why Yamada-san kept babbling about family-friendly kitchenware? Even Morooka-san’s comments made more sense now…

And that’s when the person in the video reaches reason number ten.

“ _Alright, reason number ten that Viktor is actually Yuuri’s secret boyfriend. Now, I think you all know what’s coming, and agree with me that the video speaks for itself. The way Viktor looks at Yuuri in this?”_ They pause for dramatic effect, raising their eyebrows ridiculously high. “ _Yeah, there’s just no way their relationship is platonic. I mean, it was posted by his son! What else do I need to say!”_

Yuuri blinks, wondering what he missed. He’s not sure he wants to find out. Even though he shouldn’t, his eyes are glued to the screen as a frozen image of himself and Viktor in the conference room yesterday evening fills the screen.

Oh god. Of all things for Yuri to record, it _had_ to be this. Does Viktor know? Does Phichit?!

When the video plays, Yuuri forgets about everything else. There’s Yuuri, going through achingly familiar steps, Viktor pausing him, touching his waist and chin to correct his posture, mumbling something you can’t hear in the video ( _that’s it, Yuuri, don’t be afraid to show your lovely face_ ) and Yuuri’s cheeks burning bright with a blush, and a smile he thought he’d been able to suppress.

This video should not be named 10 reasons Viktor is his secret boyfriend.

It should be named _10 reasons Yuuri Katsuki is utterly, pathetically in love and too damn anxious to do anything about it._

When the recording finishes, he finds himself scrolling back twenty seconds, watching it again. This time he pointedly ignores himself, watching Viktor instead. It’s…

Not what he expected.          

Viktor looks at ease. Like he does this all the time. And well, he _is_ a ballet teacher and choreographer, but… There’s just something about the way he touches him. Of course, to Yuuri all his touches feel like a miracle, but isn’t he standing a little too close? And does he _really_ need to caress his jawline like that…

Yuuri’s mind instantly supplies him with a million reasons that it doesn’t mean anything, but that doesn’t remove the main problem.

There is an _actual video_ discussing reasons he and Viktor are dating, and there were enough references back to twitter and instagram that Yuuri makes a decision.

He needs to know.

Heart hammering inside his chest, he opens up instagram first. What Phichit doesn’t know is that Yuuri has a super secret account that he only uses to follow recipe blogs (food, pastries, cocktails – you name it) because even if he can’t _eat_ things he can still _look_ at them. He never thought to ask Phichit about changing the password because he’s a little embarrassed about it, seeing it as a guilty pleasure, and also he’s usually pretty good at not checking anything before the competition is over.

Now the account comes in handy (of course he could make a new one, but he’d need a new email, and well, too many steps) as he logs into _katsudonlover_ and finds Viktor’s account in no time at all.

Besides the fact that there’s a really embarrassing picture of himself as a cardboard cut-out, the other pictures seem fine until he starts skimming through comments. And there are a _lot_ of them.

He heads over to Yuri’s account, then Phichit’s, then searches #yurikatsuki. This also leads him into #yuuridoesitbetter (how is Yuri so adorable) and #nhktrophy, but eventually he finds something that is clearly, _clearly_ not meant for him to see.

 

**@katsuki+ice**

_Check out my new tumblr [link] that’s 100% about Viktor and Yuuri’s relationship!!!_

#viktuuri

 

He finds it through a comment on the video of him and Viktor dancing, someone linking to the twitter post and clearly not minding that Yuri (or Yuuri for that matter) might see it. Now, Yuuri doesn’t have a tumblr of his own, even though Phichit assures him that that’s where the best funny animal videos are, but signing up is fast and Yuuri _has to know_.

Whoever this katsuki+ice is, they weren’t kidding when they said it focused 100% on them. The blog looks fairly tasteful, a header with one of the selfies Yuuri has taken with Viktor and Yuri, cutely drawn skates on top of a mint green background, snowflakes for some reason gently sprouting from the cursor whenever he moves it around. Yuuri knows that there are people who like to follow celebrity romances (whether real or imagined) but he never thought _he_ would be one of those celebrities.

He has to take a moment just to let it sink in. He’s an athlete, true, a public figure, with fans, it’s just-

Forcing down the slight panic he tells himself it’s fine. They’re fans, they don’t know. So far it seems harmless – if it wasn’t, he’s sure Phichit or Celestino would have done something. They might not have found this particular blog yet though, because the twitter post was made only a few hours ago.

The latest blog post follows a timeline, commenting on every competition selfie that Yuuri has ever taken that involved Viktor. He skips it – he’s already seen them all a hundred times. A few pages down he figures out that the blog is a mix of tumblr posts made by others, and screenshots from twitter and instagram.

Honestly, the most shocking thing is that people have been talking so much about him without him noticing. He’s in so many pictures both by friends and by fans, there are comparisons of his new short program with his old one, and there are way too many long-winded theories about his and Viktor’s supposed relationship.

It’s surreal, sitting on a hotel bed wearing his free skate costume, barely an hour or so from heading over to the arena for the competition, reading post after post about himself and the man he’s in love with.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but all these people are so convinced that even Yuuri has trouble denying it. It’s hard to argue with close-ups of his face mid-program that compare Skate Canada to the NHK trophy. He knows he wasn’t exactly _happy_ about his skating last time, but he almost looks depressed.

This is where people argue the most, it seems. Did he and Viktor start dating before or after Skate Canada? The former believers have a few good points, but the _after_ is a lot more romantic in Yuuri’s opinion. Viktor swooping in to save him with fresh choreography and sweet kisses isn’t too far from reality – minus the kisses, sadly.

As utterly crazy as it all is, Yuuri is almost relieved. The worst has already happened, hasn’t it? His pathetic pining is all over the internet, and even though it’s going to be hell once he has to deny it all, in a way it’s nice to know that other people think they look good together. It’s nice that people think Viktor is important to Yuuri, because he is, regardless of what their ‘relationship’ is like.

Like this, he knows what’s going to happen.

He has to skate, and afterwards, he has to do an interview telling the world that it’s all platonic.

On the screen is a gif compilation from the dance that Viktor and Yuri made to cheer for him at the Olympics. He remembers crying after watching, because the Olympics felt so big and scary and he didn’t know if he’d be able to see them at all, even though it was held in Russia. Now, almost a year and a half later, he cries again.

It’s a slow cry, the kind that makes warm tears run in trails down your cheeks while you’re not entirely sure if you’re smiling or grimacing with hurt. It’s the kind of cry that lodges a lump so deep in your throat that all you feel is the pain and the way your breaths shudder and get stuck.

Isn’t it too cruel, having the world think your greatest wish is true when it’s not-

It’s _not_ , but Yuuri _wants_ , and is he really going to resign himself to a fate like this?

He goes back to instagram, finds the video he wants easily – and it looks too good to be real, when Viktor smiles at him and tells him to dance through the choreography one more time.

But it was real. It happened.

Last night, not even twenty-four hours ago, Yuuri thought that Viktor might kiss him.

And if several thousand people seem to think the same thing he did…

He takes a breath, another, waits until his hands steady and his vision isn’t blurred. Maybe it won’t happen today, or even this year, but Yuuri wants to try. He desperately wants to try reaching Viktor with his feelings, to show him, somehow, that even though Yuuri isn’t perfect in any way he might be worth a shot at least.

If he skates well enough-

 _That’s it_.

He has to skate, and he has to _win_ , and show Viktor what he’s capable of. There’s a rush through his body at the thought, of dedicating his skating completely to Viktor. If Viktor’s right and he creates music with his body, then Yuuri wants to create a love song, a song that says _I’m better with you_.

He wants to show, with his body, a feeling of _I don’t have you, but if you stayed I would give myself to you_.

He sinks into the feeling, presses it close to his heart, feels the pain in his throat lessen.

With this, he still has a chance, before the competition is over. Before the interviews, and before having to tell Viktor what his fans say about them, if he can just show Viktor with his skating…

If he can be Katsuki Yuuri, Olympic bronze medalist, World Championship gold medalist, holder of the records for the free skate and total score.

If he can be the skater the world believes him to be, then he might feel confident enough to tell Viktor _I’d like the rumors to be true_.

In theory, at least.

♡♡♡

When Yuuri joins them down in the lobby, he’s not regular Yuuri anymore. Celestino notices Phichit stare in awe, because these occasions are so rare, when Yuuri somehow slips into the person he is on the ice during competitions long before he steps onto it. It’s the kind of single-minded focus that Phichit never quite got the hang of, because even when performing he’s trying to have fun.

Yuuri, when he means business, is almost frightening to be around.

“Let’s go,” Yuuri tells them, a tiny furrow between his brows, back straight and shoulders set.

He’s a man on a mission, and Celestino smiles at how excitement seems to glow in Phichit’s eyes as he follows. Yuuri is always so modest, especially during practice. It makes even Celestino forget sometimes that he’s on a completely different level from most other skaters, and that he got there through ridiculous stamina and determination.

Sure, Phichit is good, the pride of his country, but Yuuri is a _superstar_. It was almost by chance that Celestino met him, and was able to offer him his coaching. Had Yuuri been discovered earlier, he would have surely ruled the skating world even as a junior. Now, Japan’s late bloomer needs to defend his very first GPF gold medal, and Celestino was honestly worried he wouldn’t hold under the pressure.

And then Viktor arrived like a blessing, giving Yuuri the boost he apparently needed.

While Yuuri is modest, he’s also much too eager to please. Countless times he’s had to coax Yuuri’s true opinion out of the boy, sometimes relying on Phichit to find out. After Skate Canada, he thought it was the pressure getting to Yuuri. One lackluster performance after a steadily rising career can break a man, and yet nothing he’d tried worked.

Until Viktor, that is.

He’s still unsure of what exactly their relationship is, but Yuuri seems eager to compete and that’s the important thing for now. Anything else can come later – there won’t be any interviews before the free skate, not with Yuuri needing to keep his focus.

There’s very few people lingering around the entrance to the arena, most watching the ladies’ free skate, which is good because Celestino can safely herd both his students into the skaters’ area. He sends Phichit off into a corridor for a warm-up jog, and brings Yuuri into the quiet of the locker rooms where he sits down on a bench and stretches his legs.

“How are you feeling, Yuuri?”

“Good. I’m good.”

Yuuri doesn’t fidget, like he usually does before a competition. Celestino hasn’t seen him this focused since he broke that world record.

“Not tired? How are your legs?”

A shrug, and Celestino sighs.

“Well, make sure you do your warm up slowly, okay? But as long as you’re feeling fine we’ll keep the jumps like we said before, so put your music on and stay focused, okay? I have to go check on Phichit first.”

When Yuuri doesn’t reply, Celestino sinks down in front of him, hand on his knee.

“Yuuri, you almost gave me a heart attack yesterday, and I’d tell you to try and not do that today but…” He smiles, squeezing Yuuri’s knee before patting it. “Do what you feel is best, alright? You know you have my support.”

Yuuri blinks at him, narrowing his eyes a little. He doesn’t say anything though, so with a final pat Celestino gets up again, clearing his throat.

“I mean that for more than just skating, Yuuri.”

“…okay.”

With a nod and another smile, Celestino goes in search for Phichit. Hopefully Yuuri will be alright on his own for a bit, since he doesn’t need to warm up just yet. Phichit, on the other hand, is a lot more nervous than he lets on and Celestino needs to make sure he doesn’t end up all over the place.

They can be a lot to handle, especially when Phichit drags Yuuri into his shenanigans, but he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

First things first though – getting his hands on Phichit’s phone.

♡♡♡

In another part of Japan, there’s a flurry of activity at Yu-topia Katsuki to prepare for the public viewing. There are snacks and food to be made, drinks to be distributed, and three very loud triplets cheering for one of Japan’s ladies single skaters as she goes out as the third last competitor. 

“Look at that!” Lutz exclaims, waving a finger at the screen. “Her spin is so good!”

“I like her axels better!” Loop disagrees, and Mari swerves around them as she cleans the low tables in the TV room.

“Of course her axels are better,” Axel says, nose turned up until Lutz smacks her arm.

“Girls, no fighting.” Yuuko enters the room, loaded with heavy bags of more snacks. “Besides, I thought you said Kaede-san is boring compared to uncle Yuuri.”

“She’s still cool!” Axel says, and the other two nod along. “But I want more quads.”

“Yeah, more quads!” Lutz and Loop chant, immediately typing Yuuri + quads in the youtube search bar on the phone they’re holding.

“Where did you get my phone!?” 

Mari sighs as mother and daughters start fighting over the phone, eventually ending up watching all four together. It’s only a matter of time before Minako shows up as well, and then they won’t have a quiet moment all night.

But it's okay. Yuuri has been doing so well, and he deserves the recognition. It still surprises her when people ask her about him as she goes about town, or when they come for dinner at the onsen. A few times they've had tourists ask, too, wanting to know where Yuuri's home rink is, where he grew up, if he ever visits.

She always knew that Yuuri would grow up to be something big. He had dreams, and the drive to work hard until he reached them. Still, he is her adorable little brother more than anything else, as their earlier phone call proved. Even if she can't be with him every day, it's good to know she can still help. Then again, Yuuri has a good support system in Phichit and Celestino, and there's that Viktor...

Yuuri mentions him, sometimes. Usually in passing, referring to him like he's a constant in his life, only backtracking and explaining - almost justifying - his mention when he starts to think about it. Mari just wants him to be happy, and well, it's easy to tell that Viktor and Viktor's son help with that. (And if she follows Yuri Plisetsky on instagram because he looks astonishingly alike her favorite boyband celebrity Takao - well, no one needs to know.)

"Ah, Mari! I think the first guests are arriving!"

She looks up at her mother's call, sighing on the inside. Most guests only show up as an excuse to party, but they do support Yuuri. He's the local golden boy, after all. She's lost count how many times their elder customers have shoved pictures of their grandchildren at Hiroko, asking if Yuuri won't come back soon and settle down. At the very least it takes attention away from Mari, and because of this she can mostly forgive her little brother for forgetting to call regularly.

It isn't long before they're all settled down, Mari expertly distributing beers and drinks, and cute little juice boxes for the triplets. Her parents plop down with expectant looks on their faces, viewing the recap of the past competition days for a few moments before their attention is drawn by the old couple running the sake shop down the street. Nishigori is the last to arrive, and then Mari can find a corner with a decent view of the TV. She takes a picture of the commotion, sending it to Yuuri to look at later; as embarrassed as he sounded on the phone she knows he'll appreciate it. Sometimes she wonders if he'll ever stop worrying about making his family proud, a conversation they've had multiple times that usually ends with Yuuri promising not to worry all the while absolutely being worried.

There's a commercial break, during which Mari lazily scrolls through various social media, happily noting down some news about Takao. She doesn't follow skating accounts really, just Phichit and Yuuri (and Yuri, and maybe Viktor), but there's enough news about Yuuri that she doubts anyone in Hasetsu has missed his sudden change of choreographer. Minako had come over for the short program last night, immediately going on a rant, but for now she looks relaxed.

The calm doesn't last long.

Once the commercials are over, the commentator - Morooka, a friend of Yuuri - lets them know they will be seeing recaps of the men's short program as well as a few interviews until the competition starts.

Yuuri's interview starts out innocently - Mari is just returning from the kitchen when she hears Yuuri's timid voice from the speakers. It's an interview from this morning, not the one with TV Asahi surprisingly, but one done in English. She pauses, follows the text since he's hard to hear over the chatter in the room, frowning at the circles under his eyes.

"Quiet everyone, Yuuri's talking!" Lutz cries out, waving her arms to shush the guests and ignoring her mother's scolding for yelling.

"Doesn't he look a bit thin?" Hiroko worries, cheek resting in her hand. "He hasn't forgotten how to cook, over there, has he?"

"I'm sure he's fine!" Toshiya laughs good-naturedly, though Hiroko turns to Minako instead.

"If only he would come home and visit, he has so much katsudon to eat," she sighs, but just then all three of the triplets let out a loud shriek, the rest of the room falling silent.

"They asked about Viktor!" Axel shouts, Yuuko trying in vain to keep them from jumping up and down in front of the TV.

"Viktor?" one of the guests, Nakahara-san from the electronics store, asks.

"Oh, he's Yuuri's new choreographer," Hiroko gushes, "such a handsome man!"

"He's Yuuri's secret boyfriend!" Loop informs them, and immediately the entire room freezes, all eyes on the TV.

Mari isn't sure if she should laugh or roll her eyes at the steadily incresing red color spreading across Yuuri's face, as the interviewer asks him about the inspiration behind his new choreography.

" _Oh, um, Viktor is very talented, so it fits the... music better?_ "

 " _Your theme is longing, isn't it? What would you say the difference between your current choreography and the new one is, in terms of presentation?_ "

Yuuri looks uncomfortable, glancing to the side for an escape, but his voice doesn't waver when he answers.

" _I would say I'm presenting a happier kind of longing instead, when you've experienced something good and want to do it again. Agape is longing with selfless love, but Stammi Vicino is more of a selfish longing, when you've met someone and want them with you always_."

He pauses, eyes widening as he appears to recount his words internally.

" _That's very interesting! And if you win, how will you and Viktor celebrate?_ "

"I told you they're dating!" Loop whisper-shouts to Yuuko, and Mari counts at least three gasps around the room.

"Hiroko-chan, when did Yuuri-kun get a boyfriend?" asks one of the housewives that like to take Hiroko out for girls’ nights. "I thought you said last week that he's still single."

She sounds put out, probably because her daughter is only a few years younger than Yuuri and perfect wife material (never mind if Yuuri is perfect husband material - he's always been a favorite among Hiroko's friends).

"Oh my," Hiroko says, head turning first to Minako, then Mari. "Does anyone have a picture?"

"Mom, they're not dating," Mari sighs, but Yuuri's embarrassed blubbering isn't helping.

"We have pictures!" Lutz yells, grabbing for her mother's phone.

"There's a loooot of pictures!" Axel adds, nodding importantly.

The interview ends, switching to some Swiss skater that only Minako likes, and Mari slinks out of the room to escape the mess. Whether they're dating or not (though probably not, because how could Yuuri ever keep such a thing secret), she's not interested in the gossip.

Instead she walks outside, lights a cigarette, and contemplates whether or not she'll be required to threaten Viktor not to hurt Yuuri, the way they do in American movies.  Yuuri lives there now, so it might be expected.

She smiles, just the corners of her lips lifting.

The triplets might take care of that for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to say something funny here but I'm out of ideas. I'll do better next time. At least we got to see the beginning of #viktuuri!!
> 
> Send me a （๑✧∀✧๑）if you, too, think they should just skip the pining and get to work on the bodyshots already.  
> Or a d(￣◇￣)b if you kinda liked the chapter but still feel bitter that the free skate wasn't in it lol. 
> 
> Tune in next time for #quadsuki and Chris revealing his secret (but only slightly evil) plan! Who knows, maybe Viktor and Yuuri will even touch each other... ⌒☆⌒☆⌒☆


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And honestly, Yuuri could tell him to drop to his knees right here where anyone could see and Viktor would do it, and only half the reason would be because he’s drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another huge chapter for all you sweet readers! Haters can click the backspace button lol. I think this chapter will give you a lot of things you're waiting for, haha. And you should thank Nora for the ending - I was planning to keep you hanging a little longer... 
> 
> Anyway! My actual vacation finally starts on Friday, but I'll be kinda busy with preparing and travelling until Saturday so I might be slow with replying to comments. I'm honestly so happy for the great response each and every time I update, it really pushes me to write more ;) 
> 
> It's too late at night for any ramblings, so please enjoy the chapter! I'll be coming back to edit some more tomorrow, sorry for any mistakes in this first version, I'm probably too tired to notice them all. 
> 
> As always, lots of love to all of you (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

The crowd cheers for Chris, who once again skates right before Yuuri. The score is called from the loudspeakers, a good one, like he deserves – and then Yuuri steps onto the ice and the arena falls silent.

It’s unnerving, and Yuuri shakes his arms loose and does a slow lap around one half of the rink. The audience doesn’t matter now, just the ice, and the music.

And Viktor.

Yuuri came here to seduce a man, but _Stammi Vicino_ isn’t a sexual song. It’s in Italian, and slow, and maybe there are people who find that sexy but Yuuri needs seduction based on emotions. He needs to convey somehow that he is right _here_ , arms open even if they tremble. He needs to lay bare the emotions simmering underneath his skin, building and building over the years until a single touch is enough to bring him to his knees.

He has to admit to himself that no matter how selfish the desire is, his heart is set on Viktor.

Sliding into place in the middle of the ice, blades smooth against it, he lowers his hands and his face and tries to fill his mind with Viktor’s smile. Yesterday he’d skated while hoping for the best, unsure of what that was.

Yuuri knows now.

He casts aside the doubts for a moment, for a few minutes, for long enough to set his heart on fire. When the first melancholic notes of his music start, Yuuri burns. He’s walking a thin line, skating such a difficult program when he should be exhausted, running on lack of sleep and the sole need to prove himself.

The quad lutz is clean. He feels at home like this, in Viktor’s choreography, hears his voice murmur into his ear. _That’s perfect,Yuuri. This fits you so well._

Keeping everything smooth is hard, because he wants to throw himself into the music, wants to express it even _more_ , how much he loves this part of the program. It’s so short, the quad loop coming up, yet he stays light on his feet and flicks his wrists, moves with the simultaneous desire to speed things up and stretch the moment into infinity.

Just before launching himself into the jump his breath hitches. If he fails now, this would be it. The first and last time he skates like Viktor gently guides him through a dance, over. Done.

He touches down on the quad loop. It’s not too bad – he finished the rotations, and springs up again in the space of a heartbeat. Still, the damage is done. Yuuri hasn’t touched down on an early jump in competition in ages, he’s supposed to be better than this.

Almost angry, he hurls himself into the triple axel that comes next. It’s got height, an alright landing, and it feels like swimming through jelly. It’s a wake-up call. The program is far from over. He’s been so focused on Viktor’s part that he ignored the rest, but now he sucks in a desperate breath and enters the camel spin with single-minded focus. He tilts his face up, twisting his body and lifting his hands to his sides; then a change of foot, upping the speed on his rotations, hands behind his back.

The part between the camel spin and the flying sit spin is his least favorite, tasting bland. Out of pure spite he adds Viktor’s one-foot glide, left leg stretched out behind him, right hand reaching out before running down the front of his throat.

Celestino might kill him, but hey, he said to do what feels best.

Somehow the flying sit spin goes without a hitch, and Yuuri can’t help it, he exits it by standing up, stretching his right arm up and spinning with it curled around his face.

It’s breathtaking, exhilaration filling his veins. He’s never changed his program like this in front of people, in the middle and with only dance practice to guide him. Was it worth only sleeping three hours? He can feel the strain in his muscles, ignores it wholly, heart a staccato in his chest.

Although, he has to stick with the choreography that comes next for the sake of the score. He’s aiming to win, and as much as he should feel bad for disliking something his actual choreographer worked hard on, the thought that _this_ at the very least is the last time he has to go through with it keeps him motivated. He does change his entrance to the quad salchow, to the one he used at Worlds, hoping it will make up for the touch-down on the loop. He can picture Celestino gripping at his hair, because surely Yuuri has gone crazy.

It feels like time moves faster now, like the music picked up in tempo, and he twists and twirls and almost over-rotates on the triple axel-single loop-triple salchow. He needs to slow down but his skin feels feverish, his ears filled with the drumming of his heart, and he can only hope that somewhere subconsciously he’s keeping track of matching the song.

He feels wild, filled with want, imagines Viktor watching him like he can’t get enough. Like Yuuri is worth getting lost in, _look at me, Viktor_.

Breezing through the step sequence he thinks of Viktor’s hands on him, Viktor’s thumb stroking his lips, the ache in his chest bittersweet. He wants to be brave, be confident, return the touch with a sultry smile and invitation – yet here he is, on the ice, the one place he ever felt truly comfortable, trying to reach for an intangible emotion. If only there was something he could do besides opening his mouth and using _words_.

The step sequence ends with a triple lutz, and suddenly all he has left are jumps. He always backloads his programs, relying on his stamina. Three quads down, one to go, but-

Yuuri makes the decision a split second before slipping into the entrance steps for the flip. He picks up more speed than he needs for a triple, takes a moment to clear his cluttered thoughts, and then he jumps – one, two, three, four – the victory gesture can’t quite be passed off as choreography, but Yuuri doesn’t care.

The audience roars, and Yuuri can barely breathe as he forces himself to focus on the short respite he gets until the final jump combo. It’s a quad toe loop followed by a triple toe loop, and it’s honestly a miracle that he clears the jump because by now he can’t ignore the pain in his thighs anymore, only barely hidden underneath the layer of adrenaline.

At this point he’s almost shocked – _he did a quad flip what the hell? –_ but there’s no time to think when all that’s left is the combination spin, and it seems to last _forever._ He almost falls over once he steps out of it, swinging his hands out to the sides before folding them against his chest, lungs heaving as he stares up at the ceiling, bright lights blinding him.

It feels like his ears are ringing, and it takes a moment to recognize it as applause and cheering. Hopefully that means he did well. Slowly he lowers his hands, blinking against the dark spots swimming in front of his vision. He tries to move and finds his legs trembling, adrenaline giving way to muscle burn, and _oh_ , maybe he should sit down.

He does just that, the ice cool against his ass, willing his head to stop spinning. He can’t believe he just did that. Five quads? He’s insane. His legs definitely agree that he is, but he can’t help laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of it. It isn’t until he runs a hand weakly over his face to get rid of some sweat that he feels the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

But he’s not sad – the opposite, really. It’s such a relief to be on the other side, and all he wants to do is fall back and sleep.

“Are you okay, Katsuki-san?”

He glances up at the small girl, one of the kids gathering up the gifts thrown on the ice after each performance. She’s carrying a bouquet of flowers and two little onigiri plushies, and Yuuri has to clear his throat twice before he can wheeze out a reply.

“Yes. I think. Maybe?”

The girl looks concerned, her dark hair up in a pretty bun, and Yuuri honestly isn’t sure if he can ever move again.

“Katsuki-san!”

Two medics are hurrying over, carrying a stretcher, and Yuuri almost dies right then and there.

“I’m fine!” he protests, struggling to get up but grimacing at the muscle cramps he seems to have all over.

“Yuuri you absolute _shit_!”

Oh god. It’s Phichit, speeding towards them, looking like he’s thrown his skate guards to the wind and jumped over the boards, grinning so wide that Yuuri can’t help but return it.

“Sorry,” he says when Phichit reaches them, sitting on his knees pathetically. “You’re right, I should have slept more.”

“Forget sleeping, what was _that_?! I saw at least three judges crying, oh my _god_.”

Phichit helps him up, aided by a very disapproving medic, and Yuuri leans on him heavily. There’s another round of applause, and Yuuri shyly waves at the audience as he slowly makes his way to the kiss and cry.

“Yuuri, do you even know what you did? I can’t believe it!” Phichit keeps shouting, too excited to properly hold Yuuri’s weight.

He almost falls, legs too wobbly, the medic team walking next to him like they expect him to collapse any second. It’s a real possibility. He’s absolutely drained, the emotional effort too much. If he could just sleep for a week, that would be great.

“Yuuri!” Phichit says his name with a gasp, pulling up short.

“What,” Yuuri mumbles, too tired to care much past the trembling of his body.

“Oh no, Ciao Ciao still has my phone,” Phichit complains, starting to move them forwards again, and Yuuri almost snaps at him because what’s that got to do with anything.

And then he lifts his face at the commotion by the kiss and cry. Viktor stands in the opening between the boards, a poor volunteer begging him to move.

“Sir, sir you can’t stand here, please-“

Viktor’s eyes are on him, completely ignoring the man, and Celestino stands beside him looking torn between laughter and exasperation. The few meters of ice between them feel like an infinite canyon, and Yuuri stumbles when Phichit tugs at him.

“He better kiss you,” Phichit grins, sending him a wink.

The thought sends heat rushing trough Yuuri’s body, but just as fast it’s replaced by dread. He can’t handle this. He’s so tired he might cry, just from seeing Viktor’s beautiful face. He could never handle a kiss, never mind the fact that Viktor is _right fucking there when he shouldn’t be and Yuuri is a terrible mess_.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, and it’s at once the most wonderful and terrifying thing he’s heard in his entire life.

And then Phichit shoves him.

Landing face first onto the chest of the man you’re crushing on might _sound_ romantic, but Yuuri hits his nose on a coat button and almost breaks his legs and Viktor grips him so hard he thinks he might die for real.

“Oh no,” Viktor says, and hauls him up like he weighs nothing at all.

He puts Yuuri safely on the floor, then _beams_ at him and bends down to pick him up bridal style.

It’s official. Yuuri died out there on the ice and now in the afterlife he’s shown the most embarrassing dreams he’s ever had, on repeat, with no escape.

“Zolotsye moyo, you were _fantastic!_ ”

Yuuri curls in on himself, face hidden beneath his arms, and what kind of afterlife is this if he just keeps dying?

“Ciao Ciao _please_ just let me have my phone for five minutes? One minute! Ten _seconds_.”

While he did skate to seduce Viktor, he wasn’t really expecting to find Viktor right off the ice, possibly seduced, _carrying_ him up the steps to the kiss and cry.

“Sir, please-“

“Celestino this is _important_!”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor murmurs into his hair, cradling him to his chest as he walks. “I don’t think you know what you do to me. I _hope_ you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

He sets Yuuri down on the seat, gently forces his hands off his face, then kneels and pulls one of Yuuri’s skates into his lap. Yuuri can’t _breathe_. Viktor’s long, slender fingers tenderly drag along the blade to remove the ice shavings gathered there, then repeats the whole thing on his other skate. Wordlessly, Celestino holds out Yuuri’s skate guards and Viktor slips them on, his expression calm but when Yuuri peeks at him through his fingers, hands once again covering his face, he can’t help the hitch to his breath.

Viktor’s eyes are glittering, his gaze intense when he glances up at Yuuri.

Is this what it feels like to be proposed to? Viktor still holds his ankle, thumb brushing along the laces, and Yuuri forgets the world exists. There’s only Viktor, and his heart trying to escape up his throat.

“We should listen to your score,” Viktor says, but he might as well have said _let’s get married right now_ because Yuuri blurts out his yes like it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Celestino sits down next to him, and Phichit plops down on the floor in front of them.

“Yuuri, I can’t believe you were carried like a princess and I couldn’t even take a picture,” he whines, poking at Yuuri’s knee.

Yuuri chokes.

“Yuuri~ Stop hiding your lovely face!” Viktor grabs his hands, happily pulling them into his lap, warm and soft to the touch. “You can’t see the screen like that!”

On the TV in front of them there’s a recap of Yuuri’s program. They show his sit spin in slow motion, and Yuuri hurriedly averts his eyes. He doesn’t tell Viktor his eyesight isn’t good enough to read the scores anyway, daring to glance around the arena instead. They’re still picking up gifts from the ice, and there’s a constant murmur from the crowd. He blinks.

“Where’s Yuri?” he asks, and Viktor smiles again.

It’s much too bright to look at, fingers squeezing around Yuuri’s.

“He’s with Mila and Sara. They brought him into the skater’s area after the price ceremony for the ladies.”

“Oh.”

“How are you feeling?”

Apart from the fact that he’s surrounded by his best friend and coach while trying not to spontaneously combust from Viktor touching him?

“A little tired, maybe.”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Phichit scoffs, then promptly shuts up and throws a hand over his mouth, looking at Yuuri like he’s sorry he interrupted the conversation.

“I’ll spare my comments for when the score is announced,” Celestino cheerfully tells him, and Yuuri shrinks a little with a groan.

He is going to be _so_ sore tomorrow for the exhibition skate.

If he makes top three, that is. Actually, he’s in Japan, so they would probably make him do his exhibition skate even if he doesn’t. Though, he will probably medal, right? He (accidentally) did five quads, and Chris only did two…

Maybe five quads was a bit over the top.

Oh god, if he wins, Chris is going to get him so drunk. He should just lock himself into his hotel room. Actually, Viktor could join him, and then-

“ _The scores, please.”_

The announcement cuts his thoughts off, and he almost doesn’t notice Viktor wrapping an arm around him. Swallowing hard, he stares at nothing in particular and strains his ear for the points.

When they’re finally announced, he can’t hear a thing over the screaming and applause. So he must have won, right? He turns to Viktor, finding the man staring at him in awe, a hand lifting to brush Yuuri’s cheek.

“You’re amazing,” Viktor says, and Yuuri doesn’t care about the scores anymore.

That is, until Phichit and Celestino grab him for a group hug, shaking him until his head spins again.

“223.30 points, Yuuri! _Two. Hundred. Twenty. Three._ How is anyone ever supposed to beat that!”

Phichit almost sounds like he’s crying, but all Yuuri can think is _oh_ , because his record – his _previous_ record – was 221.58. Which means that even with the fifth quad, his presentation score wasn’t fantastic…

“So I won?” he asks, and Phichit looks like he might hit him. “Sorry! I mean, that’s great?”

Phichit groans, face-planting onto Yuuri’s thigh. It hurts.

“You almost broke the total score, too,” Phichit informs him, though the sound is muffled.

“Wow!” Viktor puts his arm around Yuuri again, and Yuuri is just too overwhelmed to be embarrassed.

He throws his arms around Viktor’s neck, pulls him close, hides his face against his collarbone.

“Thank you,” he chokes out, tries not to cry but it’s just _so much_.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor sighs, holding him tight. “I just wanted to see you this happy.”

That, if nothing else, has Yuuri break down into a sobbing, snotty mess, right there on live TV.

He can’t bring himself to care.

♡♡♡

Mari is… impressed. Her shy little brother, who sounded so small and embarrassed on the phone, went out there and got himself a man. Maybe she was wrong, when she said they’re not dating. Maybe Yuuri _does_ know how to keep a secret – actually, scratch that. Maybe he knows how to “forget” telling them. He sure doesn’t seem very secretive on TV, staring at Viktor like he hung the moon.

And, while Mari is impressed, her parents seem _overjoyed_.

Yuuri is crying, in Viktor’s arms, and really the cameras should be switching back to the commentators now yet it seems that Morooka is perfectly happy commenting on Yuuri’s personal life instead. Meanwhile, Yu-topia Katsuki has never seen this much commotion – and that’s counting the time that Sagan Tosu won a really big game.

“That’s my boy!” her father laughs, and Yuuko and Nishigori are sobbing even worse than Yuuri.

Everyone is speculating wildly, congratulations shouted at Hiroko and Toshiya as well as phone calls being made to relevant grandchildren.

Ah, what a mess. The only one who doesn’t seem affected is Minako, but when Mari meets her eyes she raises her eyebrows and motions with her head towards the hallway. Minako leads her outside, into the chill of the evening breeze, and Mari lights a cigarette to ward off the cold.

“You don’t seem very surprised,” Minako says, and Mari knows she’s trying to make fun of her permanent deadpan look.

“What about you?” she shoots back, and Minako flicks her hair and frowns.

“I know Viktor, and I know Yuuri’s had a crush on him for years.”

“You _know_ Viktor?”

She shrugs, then grins a little.

“He’s a ballet dancer. Of course I know him.”

“Huh. Is he any good, then? Yuuri never really tells.”

This time Minako laughs out loud, taking a swig from the sake bottle she brought with her.

“He _was_. The best, honestly. Now he’s mostly using that scarily talented brain for choreography.”

“Makes sense.”

Mari shivers, wondering how long Minako is planning to talk for. She’d like to see the medal ceremony.

“I’m just not sure he’s good enough for _Yuuri_ ,” Minako continues, eyes narrowing. “As good as he is, he’s one of _Lilia’s_ students. There are standards.”

Mari snorts; she should have known this was somehow about rivalry and prestige. Boy is she glad she escaped _that_ one by only attending one single ballet class in her life.

“As long as he’s happy, right? But mom and dad will get sad if he moves to Russia when he retires.”

“Yuuri would know better than that.”

Giving Minako a doubtful look, Mari decides the conversation is over – at least the part done outside.

“Well, you can always ask him at Nationals. Or call.”

Mari isn’t worried what Yuuri might or might not decide to do in the future. She’s more worried about her parents already deciding Viktor is their new son.

“Oh, I’m calling him alright,” Minako mutters to herself, but then she stops in the doorway, staring hard at the floor before drawing in a deep breath. “It’s just-“

She looks helplessly at Mari, shaking her head a little.

“When did he become an _adult_?”

“Feeling old?”

Minako stomps her foot, not in the mood for Mari’s jokes it seems.

“I’ve taught him ballet since he was just a baby. And now he’s learning from the Russians. The Russians!”

“Is that… bad?”

“No. I always told Yuuri he could go with ballet instead, if he wanted. I would have dropped my pride and asked Lilia to take him on, even. And then he goes and seduces her most prized student! Oh, she is going to _hate_ it.”

When Minako starts cackling, Mari decides she doesn’t want to know. There is probably a backstory there. She hopes. Unless Minako is drunk enough to not make any sense anymore, which is also an option.

“Alright,” she says, carefully ushering Minako back into the TV room.

Inside, things are as lively as ever. The triplets are running around the room, mimicking Yuuri’s program, and on-screen Morooka has returned to actual figure skating comments. She sits down next to her mother, who is gushing over the pictures that Nishigori are showing her of Viktor and Yuuri on social media over the past days.

She has a feeling no one will believe it if Yuuri tries to tell them he’s still single…

That is, if he is.

♡♡♡

Yuri isn’t sure what to feel – extreme pride, jealousy, or downright embarrassment. _Why_ is his dad such a, such a-

He doesn’t even know what he is, but he knows it’s _embarrassing_. Pride is the more pleasant option, because Yuuri just broke a record with _his_ help, and he also gets to sit in the spectator stands reserved for the skaters again. Jealousy is less nice, and he tries to shake it off. Next time he’ll be waiting for Yuuri by the kiss and cry too. Definitely!

“Oh my _god_ ,” Mila squeaks for the millionth time, speaking English for Sara’s benefit. “Why didn’t I do that after you skated? That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

“Bleh,” is all Yuri says, because his dad is so silly and now they’re showing a rerun of the whole carrying thing on the large TV-screens above the ice.

He always does these extravagant things, like when Yuri won his first local competition and he threw party poppers everywhere. Poor Yuuri has to deal with it now.

“Let’s stand together on the podium at Euro’s instead,” Sara teases, and Mila crosses her arms with a huff.

“If I hadn’t been injured-“

“I know, that’s why I said for Euro’s!”

Yuuri peeks at them when Sara presses a quick kiss to Mila’s cheek. That’s dating, right? He tries to imagine Yuuri doing the same thing to his dad, but it’s a bit strange to think about. But he saw lots of people talking about it on twitter so he supposes that’s the kind of thing that would happen if they did date. It’s not _bad_ , but he’s more interested in knowing what this means for his chances to have Yuuri as a coach.

“I have a question,” he blurts out, choosing Russian because he doesn’t want anyone to overhear.

Mila quirks a brow, smiling at him when he fishes for words.

“About?” she asks when he’s been struggling a bit too long, and he reluctantly stops gnawing on his sleeve.

“So like… If someone dates someone else, and the first person has a child, and the child wants the other person to coach them… They kind of _have_ to, right? If it’s the child of the person they’re dating… right?”

He can tell that Mila is trying not to laugh, and he swats at her hand when she pats his cheek.

“Oh, you’re too cute,” she says, which isn’t helpful _at all_.

“Well?” he asks tersely, glaring at her.

Sara is looking between them with a questioning expression, and Yuri glances away again. He sees his dad and Phichit supporting Yuuri as they make their way from the kiss and cry, heading for the skater’s area to prepare for the price ceremony.

“Can we go to Yuuri?” He stands up, refusing to ask again, hands on his hips like his dad does when he goes all ‘I’m in charge here, Yura’. “You’re too annoying.”

“Oh sure, we’re _annoying_ ,” Mila laughs, but both she and Sara stand to leave. “Is that really how you should talk to your ticket backstage, hmm?”

He fakes an innocent expression, eyes wide and hands clasped together in front of him.

“Please Mila, can we _please_ go see Yuuri? I’ll never say your spins are sloppy again.”

“You play a dangerous game, mister,” she says, but he can tell she’s laughing again so he counts it as a win. “Alright, we’ll go but only because I want to see this up close. When did we last have any drama?”

The last part she asks of Sara, who shakes her head with a small smile.

“Maybe when those pair skaters broke up?”

Yuri tunes them out, focusing on making his way down the stairs and into the corridors. There’s not a lot of time between the last skater and the prize ceremony, so they need to hurry if they want to catch Yuuri before he has to go out there on the ice again.

The thought of going out there together with Yuuri makes him flush a little. He wants to compete so badly, and if he was a little older he would have dreamt of competing against Yuuri. Realistically, very few make it into seniors before they’re eighteen, and even if he _would_ , he doubts Yuuri will continue to compete that long. It would be four years at least, and then Yuuri would be around 27 or 28, and he’s been following skating long enough to know that most skaters retire before that.

He’s been counting on it, actually. Say Yuuri skates for three more years, then he can coach Yuri when he’s fourteen, and by then he can probably quit school and go all out with skating. And then he can win the Junior Grand Prix and World Championship, and make his debut for seniors at fifteen or sixteen. And _then_ he’ll break all Yuuri’s records and make Yuuri both one of the best skaters in forever and also the best coach in forever.

It’s a foolproof plan, really. He’s worked a lot on it. The possibility of his dad marrying Yuuri was definitely not part of the plan, but he can work with adjustments. When he first saw the comments about it he wasn’t sure what to think, and it’s not like he wants his dad to get married because marriage usually doesn’t work out. But he thought about it for a bit and came to the conclusion that _if_ they get married, then his chances at being coached by Yuuri will _probably_ increase. His dad did say that he’ll only marry someone if Yuri is okay with it, so maybe he can say that they can only do it after Yuri has won the World Championships with Yuuri as his coach. He considered the Olympics first, but it might be a little harsh to pick a competition that only happens once every four years.

It seems kind of cool, anyway, to have Yuuri Katsuki as his stepdad. They can skate together, and go watch movies, and his dad will probably make them do lots of ballet, but if Yuuri is there then maybe he doesn’t have to go with them all the time… He could even stay home and play video games! It really sucks that winter break isn’t here yet. He’s got way more important things to do than boring homework.

The skater’s lounge is filled with a loud buzz of voices talking over each other as they enter. He has to get on his tiptoes to try and find Yuuri, though it’s Sara who spots him first. She’s barely said the words before he’s sprinting towards him, through the crowd of people wanting to say their congratulations.

“Aha!” his dad says, catching him around his waist just before he reaches Yuuri.

“Let me go!” he complains, squirming and thrashing in his hold.

“Yuuri is very tired, Yurochka. He might fall over if you jump on him.”

Fine. Yuri stills, pouting when Yuuri is too busy with the swarm of skaters and reporters to notice him.

“Papa, you’re so embarrassing,” he says instead, sticking out his tongue when his dad slumps.

“Yuraaa,” he whines, pulling him close in a sort of hug and leading him away from the worst crowd. “I thought I told you to be nice to me. What did I do to deserve this?!”

“You won’t let me talk to Yuuri.” Even though he knows it’s hardly his dad’s fault that Yuuri is swarmed with people, he still feels it’s unfair that he can’t be with him.

“I’m sorry Yurochka, for now we’ll just have to wait. We can watch him from the side of the rink, though! His coach was very nice and told me we can go with him.”

And so that is what they do; wait for Yuuri’s coach to shoo away the reporters and bring Yuuri back to the rink. Everything is in a terrible hurry suddenly, and Yuri barely has time to catch a smile from Yuuri before they see him back by the entrance to the ice, slightly more steady on his feet now. Coach Ciao Ciao tells him he can sit up on the barrier to watch the ceremony, and he excitedly swings his feet and snaps a few pictures while Yuuri prepares to make his way over to the podium.

The cheers are deafening when he does, and Yuri makes sure to scream his very loudest. He could almost burst from happiness, sitting down here instead of in the spectator seats, knowing he was part of Yuuri’s success and surprise. The stands are a sea of Japanese flags, mixed with some Swiss and Russian, and Yuuri looks proud and almost teary-eyed as he accepts the gold medal.

“This is the second time he’s won the NHK trophy, isn’t it?” his dad muses behind him, and Yuri nods.

“He won it two years ago, too.”

“No wonder everyone is going crazy, especially when he did such great performances.”

“I bet he’ll break _all_ the records at the final if he finishes the programs.”

Yuri is certain of this, like it’s a fact already. Why wouldn’t he, when he broke the free skate with less great programs already?  

“Mm.” His dad leans his chin on his shoulder, both of them looking at Yuuri posing for pictures. “I wish we could practice some more with him. It’s been fun, no?”

“This was the best week of my life,” Yuri declares, pulling up his phone again. It’s been blowing up with notifications the past days, and he hasn’t even kept up with his usual commentary of the skaters. “If you marry him, we can do this every competition, right?”

For some reason his dad chokes a little, coughing and thumping at his chest.

“I,” he clears his throat, “I mean, I haven’t even asked him on a date yet.”

Frowning, Yuri turns a little. His dad is bright red in the face, rubbing at his chest and staring at Yuuri.

“Whatever,” he says. “I just want to go in the skater’s area from now on. Did you know that Sara already follows me on instagram? She’s cool. Much cooler than Mila.”

“That’s nice.”

“If I start competing in seniors when I’m fifteen, I can still compete against Phichit and Leo and Guang-Hong, they’re cool too. I already know what music I can skate to, and I want leopard-printed skates. I bet Yuuri could wear skates like that if he wanted to. Black or white are so boring.”

When his dad doesn’t reply, he turns again to find him with another of those weird expressions on his face, like he wants to disagree but knows Yuri is right.

“Can I get leopard-print skates for my birthday next year? I would look _so_ cool.”

“I’ll think about it.”

It’s practically a yes. Yuri does a silent cheer inside his head and watches Yuuri arguing with Chris about something, and whatever it is has him all red and spluttering.

“There you are!”

It’s Phichit, grin threatening to split his face as he thumps his dad on the back.

“Hi, Phichit! You were super cool!”

“Thanks!” Phichit takes a selfie with him, Yuuri and the podium in the background, and then turns to his dad. “Wow, Viktor, I was almost disappointed at first but lifting him bridal style? That was _hot_.”

“I just-“ His dad clears his throat, gaze flickering between Phichit and the podium. “Is he feeling alright now?”

“Probably not.” Phichit shrugs, flashing them a smile when they both frown. “I mean, he always does impossible stuff so I wouldn’t worry. But he’s gonna feel that in the morning for sure.”

“He should get some rest.”

“Ah, well, he can’t miss his party? Chris would be _so_ upset.”

“A party.”

Yuri loses interest at that point, checking his phone while Yuuri take dozens of more pictures.

“Of course! Chris told me it’s tradition. They get drunk together a lot.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t worry, you’re invited of course!”

“Papa doesn’t party,” Yuri informs Phichit, and for some reason Phichit’s face falls a little.

“Oh? Is there a reason?”

Yuri shrugs, because all he knows is that his dad always says that partying is bad for you and makes you do not responsible things. Yuuri seems responsible. Chris doesn’t, so he’s not surprised it was his idea.

“No reason,” his dad says, sounding a little strained. “It sounds fun though, but well, I think Yura and I will spend the night catching up on some sleep.”

“Actually…”

 For some reason Phichit leans close to his dad, whispering in his ear. Yuri frowns, trying to hear but it’s impossible over the new cheers erupting as the medaling skaters start making victory laps on the ice.

He forgets about the party discussion, recording Yuuri instead, cheering as well when he waves to the audience. When he passes Yuri, he goes backwards and smiles at them, running a hand through his hair and chewing on his lower lip for a moment. Yuri can’t wait for him to finish so he can talk about the program with him. It was so incredible when Yuuri added those things they hadn’t even practiced together, and he wants to know what Yuuri thinks about the rest of the choreography for the final.

“Say, Yuri…” It’s Phichit, leaning on the barrier next to him and tilting his head to see him better. “We were planning to have a movie night to celebrate, I mean, those of us who can’t or don’t want to party. You know, just relax and eat lots of fun snacks and talk about the competition.”

“Uh-huh.”

Yuuri is at the other side of the rink now, pausing to bow to the audience, all the Japanese flags fluttering like crazy.

“It’ll probably be me, Leo, Guang-Hong, maybe some junior skaters that Guang-Hong knows. So we were wondering if you want to join, too?”

Turning to blink at him, Yuri’s mouth falls open in surprise.

“Me?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun!” Phichit grins again, a bit more secretive. “Much more fun than just hanging out with your dad, right?”

A rush of excitement fills Yuri then, at the thought that he’s invited to spend time with the skaters _without_ his dad.

“Is Yuuri coming?”

“Ah, well, I think he’ll be forced to go to the party. Since he won, and everything. He doesn’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t have to go,” his dad says, and that definitely makes him _want_ to go.

“I’ll go! I don’t want to hang out with an old man all night!”

His dad makes a pained noise, clutching at his chest, but his eyes are glittering with amusement.

“So I’m cruelly abandoned by my own son, what am I supposed to do now?”

Yuri tsks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t care. You can’t join us!”

“Oh, I know,” Phichit tells them, eyes wide with his idea. “You can go to the party! Someone needs to keep an eye on Yuuri, so he doesn’t get too tired for the exhibition tomorrow.”

“Not fair,” Yuri pouts. “I want to be with Yuuri!”

“Well, Yurochka, you can’t go partying. You have to wait a few years for that.”

Gnawing on his lips, Yuri contemplates the options. If Yuuri really _has_ to go to the party, then he supposes it doesn’t matter if his dad is there too or not. And he does get to hang out with the other skaters. Phichit is lots of fun, and Leo might give him some good skating advice. It’s not like he has any friends to have movie nights with, anyway. It’s always just him and his dad, or his grandpa, or Yakov and Lilia. This will be cool. Like he’s finally big enough to do things on his own.

“I’ll go with Phichit,” he declares, puffing out his chest a little. “I don’t care what you do.”

Phichit laughs when his dad slumps, always so dramatic.

“ _Yura_ ,” he whines, “at least be nice to Phichit and the others, okay? I expect you on your best behavior.”

He’s about to scoff that he’s _always_ on his best behavior when Yuuri reaches them again, bowing nearby. They all clap for him, and then, when he’s finally heading for the exit, he comes right up to them instead.

“Hi,” he says, breathless and sweaty and for some reason his dad is making strangled noises behind him.

“Yuuri!” He jumps up and down in his seat, almost falling off if not for his dad’s steadying hands. “That was amazing! You’re the best!”

“Thank you, Yuri,” he smiles, and then hesitates a bit before taking off the medal looped around his neck. “It’s really all thanks to you, and Viktor.”

When Yuuri reaches out his arms and holds the medal up, Yuri freezes in place.

“I have to do some interviews and change and stuff, but do you think you could take care of this one for me until tomorrow? I don’t want to lose it.”

Yuri nods, because what else can he do? It feels like his whole body vibrates with happiness as Yuuri puts the medal around his neck, arranging it neatly in the middle of his chest.

“It’ll be practice for when you’re older and win your own,” Yuuri adds, and Yuri almost explodes.

“I’ll win everything,” he whispers, and Yuuri’s smile lights up the whole world.

Is it possible to die from happiness? Yuri thinks he might, fingering the cool metal as Yuuri goes over to the exit, his coach helping him up.

“Papa,” he says, turning sharply to grab his dad and shake him around a bit. “Papa he’s _perfect_. He can be my other dad.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, grabbing his phone and hopping down to the floor. This calls for a selfie.

Oh, it really _is_ the best week of his life!

♡♡♡

 

_[image]_

♥  **3,657 likes**

 **yuri-plisetsky**  One day this gold medal will be mine!!

#nhktrophy #yuuridoesitbetter #yurikatsuki #quadsuki #i’mguardingit #untiltomorrow

_View all 45 comments_

 

_[image]_

♥  **4,103 likes**

 **christophe-gc** Heading for the after party with the gang! Missing a few skaters below 20 <3

#nhktrophy #yurikatsuki #viktornikiforov #georgipopovich #michelecrispino #anighttoremember

_View all 186 comments_

 

_[image]_

♥  **4,931 likes**

 **Phichit+chu**   **@christophe-gc** Who needs an after party when you can have a movie night??

#nhktrophy #yuriplisetsky #guanghongji #leodelaiglesia #yuurisgoldmedal #skaterslumberparty

_View all 94 comments_

 

_[image]_

♥  **3,727 likes**

 **mila-b** Taking this gorgeous woman out to celebrate!! Pose inspired by **@v-nikiforov** and **@yuri_katsuki** ofc!

#nhktrophy #saracrispino #doyouevenlift                

_View all 58 comments_

 

♡♡♡

 

_[I can’t believe you sold me out to Chris like this.]_

_[I thought we were friends]_

_[I thought I could trust you]_

_[But Viktor will be there!]_

_[I KNOW]_

_[THAT ISN’T HELPING]_

_[As your bestie, I’m only looking out for your best interests]_

_[I’m going to die]_

_[And as your bff I give you permission to get wasted and_

_make passionate love to the man of your dreams all night long]_

_[I’m going to DIE]_

_[our friendship is over]_

 

Phichit snickers to himself, sending off a bunch of eggplant emojis, rain drops, and several tongues. There is just no way anyone can mistake how gone for each other Yuuri and Viktor are – unless, of course, your name is Katsuki Yuuri. He’s placing his bets on Viktor to not disappoint him tonight, because he’ll be very upset if Yuuri isn’t walking around in a romantic haze tomorrow.

 

_[Chris is already making me drink]_

_[HE TOLD ME YOU’RE IN ON THIS HOW COULD YOU]_

_[Little Yuri can sleep over in my room tonight so don’t worry about anything]_

_[Have fun!]_

_[Get your man!]_

_[On his knees *wink*]_

_[PHICHIT NO]_

 

Phichit tries not to cackle out loud. There are innocent souls sharing space with him, after all, and he wants to spare them the juicier details of his and Chris’ plan. Well, mostly Chris’, but only because he’s gotten drunk with Yuuri before. Phichit is so upset that Yuuri never told him about all the fun things he gets up to at competitions. It seems Viktor is in for a wild night…

When Yuri jumps onto the bed he puts his phone away, helping him arrange all the pillows they’d gathered from Leo’s and Guang-Hong’s rooms. It ended up being only the four of them, but Yuri seems happy enough as he unpacks the snacks that the other two had gone out to buy.

He’s still wearing the gold medal securely around his neck, sometimes picking it up to stare reverently at it. He’ll bet his skates that Yuri will fall asleep wearing it. As the others discuss what movie to watch ( _The King and the Skater_ has already been dismissed, so Phichit doesn’t feel the need to join in) he replies to a few comments on his latest instagram post.

A minute later his phone vibrates with a message from Chris.

 

_[Viktor isn’t even drunk yet]_

_[image]_

 

It’s a picture of Yuuri downing a shot, and Viktor watching him like he wishes he was the alcohol disappearing between his lips.

 

_[Don’t you mean he’s drunk on love?]_

_[Touché, mon ami]_

 

By the time Phichit has google translated the French, Chris has sent him another picture. This time it’s of Viktor talking to some guy – a waiter maybe? – and Yuuri glaring not so subtly at the poor guy.

 

_[If only we could post these…]_

_[Let’s just sit back and enjoy the ride;)]_

_[So far the plan works perfectly]_

 

Phichit considers finding a good meme to reply with, but the movie has been chosen and the others demand his attention. He settles for sending a thumbs-up, squeezing together with the other three under the blankets and smiling to himself. This is going to be _good_.

♡♡♡

 

A WORLD RECORD THAT SHOULD SURPRISE NO ONE - AND YET WE'RE ALL STUNNED

_Blog post by Figure Skating Daily, L. Anderson, November 28th 2015, 9:23pm_

 

**A surprise world record for the free skate at NHK Trophy suggests Katsuki’s slump at Skate Canada was merely a fluke. This year’s World Champion proves all rumors of retirement wrong with stunning new programs.**

No one can possibly have missed the gossip surrounding Yuri Katsuki and his new choreographer Viktor Nikiforov. At age 30, the Russian former principal danseur of the Bolshoi Ballet has made a successful career out of choreographing, though until this year mainly for classical ballet. This season he took over choreographing Russian skaters Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich’s programs, after the announcement of their former choreographer Lilia Baranovskaya (head of the Mariinsky Ballet in St. Petersburg and Viktor’s employer) taking a break. Of course, Nikiforov is not just any choreographer to the Russian single skaters – as Lilia Baranovskaya’s prized student he practically grew up with her and her ex-husband, none other than coach Yakov Feltsman.

So, what is all the fuss about? If you’ve been following skating on social media, you’ll know that Katsuki has a close friendship with Nikiforov and his son, Yuri Plisetsky (11). What most of us didn’t know was that Katsuki has been working on new programs after his unusually low score at Skate Canada. Many were shocked at the unannounced changes to his short program on Friday evening, Katsuki’s coach Celestino Cialdini more than most. _“To be honest, Yuuri didn’t discuss these changes with me beforehand, but it’s good to see him take charge. I was a bit worried after Skate Canada, because Yuuri has a lot left to give!”_ Cialdini said afterwards, declining to comment on the choreography itself.  More surprising than a new program was the fact that Nikiforov was behind it. It’s not the first time Katsuki has changed choreographers, but it’s certainly the first time it’s happened mid-season. _“_ _We go to all of his competitions. We like to think we’re his biggest fans!”_ Nikiforov revealed on Friday, suggesting he might be doing this as a personal favor.

We thought the short program was the end; a teaser for new programs to come at the Grand Prix final, or perhaps the Four Continents. Meanwhile fans were going wild over rumors of Katsuki’s possibly romantic relationship with Nikiforov, something that has yet to be confirmed. Katsuki did a very short interview after the medal ceremony with Asahi TV, merely expressing his gratitude for Nikiforov’s help. _“Viktor has been a great help to me, and I wanted to skate my very best today to show my gratitude, but I know I can do better,”_ an exhausted Katsuki told the media, and I have to ask – how do you do better than beating your own world record?

Not only did Katsuki win the gold, he also beat the previous record for the free skate with almost two full points. And – he did it with _five_ quads, of _four_ different types. It’s no wonder the audience was in awe after the free skate when Katsuki has proved himself to pass yet another level. Even better (or worse, depending on if you’re a fan or competitor), Katsuki only changed parts of his program to Nikiforov's choreography. Can any other skater pose a threat to him at the final? If Katsuki succeeds in completing his choreography in the two weeks left, I would say no. Japan’s late bloomer keeps taking the world by storm, though for once it does seem his personal life is trending more than his skating is. However, until the promised interviews after Sunday’s exhibition skate, fans will have to keep speculating over the details. It is a well-known fact that Katsuki is popular not only for his expressive skating, but also his good looks. Should Katsuki confirm a relationship, it is highly possible that napkins will see an upswing in sales due to the amount of broken hearts.

 

**Quick facts:**

_Name:_ Yuri Katsuki (Japanese: Katsuki Yūri, 勝生 勇利)

 _Born:_ 29 November 1992

 _Nationality:_ Japanese (originally from Hasetsu, Saga prefecture, Kyushu)

 _Competes for:_ Japan

 _Discipline:_ Men’s singles

 _Trains in:_ Detroit

 _Coach:_ Celestino Cialdini

 _Current world ranking:_ 1 st place

 _Medals 2015:_ Gold NHK Trophy _,_ Bronze Skate Canada _,_ Silver World Team Trophy _,_ Gold World Championships _,_ Gold Four Continents

 _Medals 2014:_ Gold Japanese Nationals, Gold Grand Prix Final, Silver Rostelecom Cup, Gold Skate America, Bronze World Team Trophy, Silver World Championships, Bronze Olympic Games.

_Records:_

Free skate NHK Trophy (2015): 223.30 points

Free skate World Championships (2015): 221.58 points

Total score World Championships (2015): 329 points

 

♡♡♡

Viktor watches, in awe, how Yuuri downs yet another shot. He seems determined to drink until he forgets his own world record, even. Of course, Viktor is heading there too, courtesy of Chris. The Swiss skater has supplied them all with a great amount of alcohol, and while Yuuri was reluctant at first all he apparently needed was a few whispered words of encouragement to let loose.

Viktor can’t help but wonder if they’ve slept with each other.

It seems the only plausible explanation – the fact that Yuuri flushes so easily in his presence, didn’t recoil when Chris heartily slapped his butt on their way into the bar. Jealousy like he never knew before burns through his veins, leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that he washes down with enough drinks to almost compete with Yuuri.

Once he’s pleasantly buzzed he inches closer to Yuuri, mumbles something into his ear that causes one of those wonderful laughs to spill from his lips, and he sends a sidelong glance towards Chris in a petty attempt at saying _look, he wants_ me _now, not you_. He really hadn’t expected any rivals, and oh how foolish of him! Katsuki Yuuri, adored by fans and skaters alike, not having people interested in him? Viktor chalks his ignorance up to never having spent much time with male figure skaters apart from Yuuri and Georgi (and Georgi, bless him, is remarkably straight).

Even though Phichit not so subtly let him know that Yuuri would absolutely love his company at the party, he can’t take anything for granted. Chris has been giving them weird looks ever since they gathered in the hotel lobby, all the skaters freshly showered and Yuuri with his hair slicked back again, dressed in fantastically tight jeans. It was only at the bar, when winter coats were peeled off, that Viktor was gifted the sight of Yuuri in an equally tight button-up.

The first few buttons at his throat are undone now; showcasing collarbones that Viktor could stare lovingly at for days. He’s probably been doing just that for a few minutes now, because Georgi’s elbow jostles him out of thoughts of what they would feel like under his mouth, soft lips against hard bone.

“Viktor, look!” he says, shoving his phone underneath Viktor’s nose.

The only good thing about this – and what a good thing it is! – is that Yuuri leans into him as well, trying to peek at the screen. Viktor has no idea what’s on there. All he knows is the waft of Yuuri’s cologne that fills his nostrils, the soft hairs tickling his chin, the warmth of his thigh pressing into Viktor’s.

He sees Yuuri’s lips move, so tantalizingly close to his, forming words that drown in the heavy thump of the bass reverberating through Viktor’s chest.

Or maybe that’s just his heart.

“Viktor?”

Yuuri’s voice sounds distant, blurry, but his face is _so close_ when Viktor turns his head. Breath catching in his throat all Viktor can do is nod, and feel the stutter of his heart when Yuuri grabs for his hand and pulls him out of his seat.

The bar is crowded, but people part for them like waves as Yuuri leads him to the dance floor. It’s even more crowded there, bodies pushing and moving somewhat rhythmically to the music pumping out of the speakers. Viktor’s not sure how drunk either of them is, but he’s not at all prepared for the determined look in Yuuri’s deep brown eyes as he swirls to face him in the middle of it all.

It should be familiar, dancing with Yuuri, and yet his hands tremble when their fingers link together. Yuuri steps in close, half a challenge in his eyes. Viktor closes the remaining distance, breath hitching in his throat. With their bodies lined up to the point of _almost_ touching, Viktor thinks he might never breathe again.

“ _Follow me_ ,” he reads on Yuuri’s lips, traces his tongue when it darts out to lick his lips, wondering how he could possibly feel thirsty after chugging all that liquor.

He stumbles, not prepared when Yuuri moves them, and how embarrassing is _that_ , for a winner of _Prix de Lausanne_ at age 15. But Yuuri gives him a shy grin that turns into deep concentration, and he hooks an arm around Viktor’s waist to ease him into some kind of pas de deux that Viktor is fairly certain was never taught at the _Mariinsky_ , at least.

They twist and twirl and Yuuri leads him expertly, makes him feel light as a feather, like the first rays of light touching morning dew. There’s no need for words, he thinks, if their bodies can catch and return the charged electricity building between them like this for eternity. And his brain might be muddled from alcohol, but he knows – oh, he _knows_ – that this man makes him happy in ways he never thought to hope for.

When he smiles, Yuuri smiles right back, shy and lovely, and all thoughts of _this is where you take it slow, Vitya_ , fly right out his ears.

The bar is half filled with non-natives, skaters and fans and maybe the odd sponsor, but to Viktor all of them might as well be a figment of imagination. Only Yuuri feels real, lighting up the world around him with the strobe lights flickering across his face. His chest is filled with flapping baby birds, desperate for flight when Yuuri grabs his waist and lifts him in a circle. Viktor does his part as well he can, drunk on life and love, limbs loose and so flighty he can barely keep up.

If he ever made any resolutions to _keep it cool_ , they are lost in the music that seems to speed up with every change of foot they do, Yuuri so impossibly quick despite how tired he must be. Viktor throws his arms around Yuuri’s neck, feels fingers curl around the loops in his dress pants to pull him in, close but never close enough. There’s still that final barrier between them, a trembling veil of _what if he doesn’t feel the same_ , and Viktor trembles with it as the music simmers down to white noise in favor of Yuuri’s eyes holding his.

The look in them is intense, _hungry_ , even, and Viktor dares to believe he’s wanted.

He threads his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, surely messing up the carefully styled strands, but all Yuuri does is slow down even further and bump their noses together. It’s too hot in there, Viktor’s clothes sticking to his skin, Yuuri’s hands like flames licking at him when they drag up the small of his back.

He wants, oh how he _wants,_ thumbs stroking along the lines of Yuuri’s jaw, lungs straining and throat raw with all the emotions Yuuri draws out of him, whether he wants him to or not. What he does want is for Yuuri to look at him like this forever, like every second apart is pain and torture, like Viktor is the only one.

And he craves it, being Yuuri’s _one and only_ , the person he can rely on, can open up his heart to. Standing in this room filled with sweaty, drunk people, Viktor thinks he’s never felt so cut open, everything pouring out in a wordless avalanche of emotions. Yuuri swallows it all, twists his fists in Viktor’s shirt and tilts his head until their foreheads touch, drinks him in until there’s nothing left but the dizzying thought that this is _real_.

Yuuri stops, then, keeps them perfectly still, despite the turmoil in Viktor’s heart. He grabs one of Yuuri’s hands, puts it over his stuttering heartbeat in the hopes it will calm down, will somehow get used to Yuuri’s presence and not act like the love struck fool he is.

Impossible, of course, but one can always hope.

When Yuuri’s gaze turns searching, Viktor squeezes his hand, fingers weaving together until he can pretend he feels some semblance of control. Yuuri has him so utterly, so _completely_ , as if his heart has built up to this over the years half in secret and now flung him headfirst into _crazy in love_.

 _Oh god_ , he thinks, wets his lips and parts them in a feeble attempt to suck air into his non-functioning lungs. _How can he be so beautiful?_

He thinks he doesn’t even need a kiss, if he can simply stand like this forever, connected to Yuuri – but he _wants, needs, craves_ Yuuri’s mouth on his. It burns him like a fever, a shiver of desire up his spine, a tingle of a touch that _could_ _be_ ghosting over his lips.

And then Yuuri pulls away, leaves him cold and yearning as he leads them back to their table.

“I need more shots,” Yuuri declares to Chris over the music, avoiding Viktor’s eyes but gripping his hand like a lifeline.

“How many?” asks Chris, laughing at a joke that Viktor isn’t in on, but already hoisting himself up to head over to the bar.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says back, sinking onto the plush sofa and bringing Viktor down with him. “As many as you can carry.”

Yuuri still won’t look at him, but he keeps him close, fingers laced and bodies pressed together like he’s afraid Viktor will run away. Viktor would rather crawl into his lap. He’s sure he’d love it there, full access to the front of Yuuri’s body. He could unbutton Yuuri’s shirt, pull the fabric off his shoulders until it snatched around his wrists, could keep his hands all but tied as he tugs his head back to expose the smooth skin of his neck. Viktor could make love to it with his mouth, could kiss promises of pleasure onto his throat, could-

It’s in the middle of this daydream that Chris returns with a full tray, grin wild around the edges as he nudges it towards them. He picks one up himself, lifts it up high.

“To victory!” he says, or at least that’s what Viktor _thinks_ he says because Yuuri blushes a bright red and almost knocks a few shot glasses over.

He’s mumbling to himself, downs one shot and immediately reaches for another, glancing at Viktor in-between.

Viktor could kiss him. All he has to do is lean in, maybe steady his cheek with one hand, and then lick the glistening drops right off Yuuri’s pretty lips. For a moment his body rushes with the idea, more of that helpless desire clogging up his throat. But Yuuri knocks the second shot back with a flick of his head, and Viktor grabs one for himself to stay sane.

It doesn’t quite burn the thought away, but things become more or less blurred after that. They dance another round, but this time all of them together and Viktor almost dies right then and there because Yuuri’s hips are licensed to _kill_. He’s surely not the only one affected, but he doesn’t notice anymore. He only has eyes for Yuuri, his playful laugh as he tries to teach Viktor more of those moves he sure as hell didn’t learn in a ballet studio. Viktor feels like he’s been deprived his whole life.

And even though he isn’t touching Yuuri the way he most wants to – in the bedroom, alone, no clothes denying him access to those gorgeous thighs – he believes he can handle the raging fires of want underneath his skin.

He believes it all the way back to a new table, a larger one surrounded by more people. Other skaters, Viktor learns, because he’s too drunk to recognise them out of costume. Despite his forgetfulness they all greet him like a friend, sending meaningful looks Yuuri’s way, until Chris slams yet another tray of shots down in the middle.

He keeps believing it, right until they start chanting Yuuri’s name, and Viktor has no idea why and thus chokes on air when Yuuri shrugs his shirt off like it was already open (and maybe it was), climbing onto the table in all his drunken grace.

That’s when he stops believing he can handle this, because Yuuri lies where the tray stood seconds ago, now unsafely relocated to the hands of some ice dancer. His chest is every wet dream come true, like straight out of that swimwear commercial Viktor may have watched a few hundred times but minus the water.

The water is, apparently, being switched with alcohol.

“What…” He doesn’t think anyone hears him, but the sweet French pair skater next to him turns out to be not so sweet when she supplies him with the answer.

“Body shots!” Her grin is wide, her hands waving towards Yuuri. “It’s tradition!”

Yuuri’s holding his arms up, fingers splayed in victory signs, chest muscles taut with the strain.

It’s almost too much for him. He’s too drunk for this, too drunk to handle someone licking alcohol off Yuuri’s stomach, not when this thing between them is so fragile and unspoken.

“Viktor!” It’s Chris, yelling and waving him closer. “Viktor, come on, mon ami! Get in position!”

“Get in what?”

Chris laughs at his stupor, comes around to shove him forward, arranges him awkwardly pressed between chairs and people and Yuuri’s very naked chest. He reluctantly focuses on Yuuri’s face instead, finds him biting his lower lip and leaning up on his elbows – and yes, his abs and pecs contract in wholly distracting ways – and when Viktor is drooling too much over the sight, Yuuri pokes his cheek.

“This is just for you,” he says, eyes promising otherworldly pleasure, and the final remains of Viktor’s resolve crumble to dust.

A small voice tells him they’re doing things in entirely the wrong order, but it’s easily silenced when Chris hands him a shot glass containing electric blue liquid that might as well be poison. Viktor would drink it gladly, if he was allowed to pour it over Yuuri first.

And that is precisely what he does, to the cheers and applause of their audience. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to wonder if anyone is recording this, all he knows is true bliss as he steadies himself with hands on each side of Yuuri’s body, one last glance at Yuuri’s head tilted back, eyes closed, and then his mouth meets cool liquid on hot skin.

Viktor never thought himself the type of man who got off on exhibitionism, but he certainly gets off on _Yuuri._ He’s lucky he’s bent so far over the table, because the sweet, sticky taste on his tongue must be an aphrodisiac, setting his veins on fire. Yuuri’s skin is silky underneath his lips, the music drowning any slurping noises as he works the alcohol off his body. He licks a stripe up the middle of his stomach, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s sternum before coming up gasping for air. If anyone were to look they’d find him hard in his pants, the heat of arousal an insistent reminder of the ways Yuuri affects him in the privacy of his bedroom.

There’s certainly no privacy _here_ , and yet when he slowly raises his eyes to meet Yuuri’s he forgets about the rest of the world. There’s just him, and the most beautiful human being on the planet. Viktor isn’t sure if he resents the loud music for covering up his words, or if he’s glad that no one hears, but Yuuri must catch some of its meaning anyway because his eyes grow wide, red spreading across his cheeks.

 _“I want you_ ,” he breathes reverently, and then mouths the words again against Yuuri’s sticky chest.

 _I want you_.

He’s not sure how he manages to stand up again, handing Yuuri his shirt and watching him put it on again, buttons in disarray. All he knows is that he somehow brings Yuuri with him to the bar, asks for a glass of water and some napkins and carefully dabs him clean with them. He even buttons up his shirt for him, properly this time, though it pains him greatly.

“Vik-tor,” Yuuri hiccups, holds onto Viktor’s forearms like he can’t stand on his own. “Viktor, we should go to Hasetsu.”

Viktor would prefer going to bed – or the bathroom, he’s not picky at the moment – but he nods along to Yuuri’s rambling as he goes on to explain everything they could do there, half of it in Japanese. It’s precious, how his eyes start gleaming in excitement, and Viktor pulls him close, wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist and nuzzles his cheek until he giggles.

“I have to-“

Yuuri digs his phone out of his pocket with some difficulty, needing three tries until he manages to unlock it. He then proceeds to lean into Viktor’s chest, tucking his head under Viktor’s chin as he determinedly starts typing away. Viktor has no idea what he’s writing, because his Japanese is limited to a few polite phrases and a few not so polite ones, but he’s perfectly happy just standing there with Yuuri in his arms.

He hasn’t realized how exhausted he is until he’s been standing like that for a minute or two, eyelids growing heavy with Yuuri’s warmth seeping into him. It’s a small miracle that Yuuri is so energetic, when he looked close to collapsing after stepping off the ice. Apparently a good massage and some alcohol was all he needed to reenergize.

Viktor is so, so jealous of the hands that got to knead Yuuri’s thighs for an hour.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, tugging at his shirt. “Viktor, look!”

Viktor will do anything Yuuri asks of him, and if Yuuri wants to spend half an hour drunkenly explaining every picture he possesses of his childhood home, then Viktor’s poor dick will only cry a _little_ bit. Having Yuuri this close to him is a true test of his virtue as a man, because Yuuri’s ass is _right there_ but even drunk Viktor won’t do anything he isn’t sure Yuuri wants him to.

Eventually Yuuri starts yawning with every other sentence, and Viktor reluctantly resurfaces from the comfy doze he’s entered, listening to Yuuri’s charming voice and not so discreetly smelling his hair.

“Tired?” he asks in Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri seems momentarily confused as to his whereabouts.

“Oh,” he says, blinking adorably up at Viktor. “I have to skate tomorrow. Oh god, I told Ciao Ciao I’d only be out an _hour_ , at the most. What time is it?!”

Viktor points to Yuuri’s phone, where the white numbers spell out _past midnight_ at the very least. Yuuri groans, bumping his forehead into Viktor’s shoulder, and Viktor can’t resist smoothing a hand over Yuuri’s hair.

“You must be so tired, zolotsye moyo. Let’s go back to the hotel?”

“Mm. You can carry me again.”

Startled, Viktor laughs, Yuuri burying his face in his hands.

“Forget it!” he mumbles, the sound muffled by his hands as well as the music.

Still smiling, Viktor hugs him close before leading him towards the exit where they also left their coats. Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind the hand Viktor keeps at the small of his back, stepping closer to him as they weave through the edges of the dance floor. There’s no sign of Chris, though Viktor only remembers him because they pass the table where _the body shot_ happened, and Viktor doesn’t think he could ever forget something as life changing like that.

As much as he wants to throw Yuuri on his bed and ravish him, he’d prefer to do it when they’re not both drunk enough to forget which way the hotel even is. They’re saved by Yuuri’s gps, laughing at the whole thing when they remember it’s just two streets away, at least to Viktor’s hotel. It’s so easy to feel happy, Viktor thinks, when Yuuri is right there next to him.

He puts an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, to keep him warm of course, and Yuuri teaches him the lyrics to a raunchy pop song Phichit thought he should use for his exhibition skate that the ISU would most likely ban him for.

It’s only when they’re in the elevator that Viktor remembers that his hotel is not also Yuuri’s hotel.

“Yuuri,” he says, trying to sound serious. “Yuuri, this isn’t your hotel.”

A loud snort bursts from Yuuri’s mouth, and he quickly covers it with both hands. He looks at Viktor like he’s afraid Viktor won’t like him anymore, and naturally Viktor needs to remedy that by pulling Yuuri flush against his body. It inspires one of those lovely blushes to spread across the bridge of Yuuri’s nose, and Viktor bumps their noses together until Yuuri returns to laughter dancing in his eyes.

“Probably not,” Yuuri agrees with him, and then the elevator stops at their designated floor. “But you’re the one who said ‘ah, there it is!’, Vik-to- _ru_.”

Yuuri drags his name out, his accent going straight to Viktor’s groin. And he shouldn’t be this _weak_ but his knees barely carry him out the elevator and into the corridor.

And honestly, Yuuri could tell him to drop to his knees right here where anyone could see and Viktor would do it, and only half the reason would be because he’s drunk.

“Maybe I want it to be yours,” he dares to say, throat thick with nerves and need.

Maybe _I_ want to be yours, he doesn’t say, Yuuri’s eyes glittering in the too bright lamplight.

When they reach his room he does the classic fumbling for his key card, swearing under his breath while Yuuri leans against the wall, too gorgeous to look at. Viktor can’t remember ever being this nervous. Of course, it’s been years since he last brought someone with him back to a hotel room, and Yuuri isn’t _just anyone_.

“Viktor.”

He doesn’t acknowledge Yuuri, too focused on manoeuvring the key card and his nerves.

“Viktor, you’re doing it wrong.”

He stops, blinks down at the key card, which is obviously being stuck into the door upside down.

“Oh.”

“Here, let me,” Yuuri says, angel that he is, and holds Viktor’s hand to turn the key card back around. “See?”

The door clicks open, but Viktor stares down at the hand covering his, wishing he was brave enough to aim for a night of wild passion.

“Thanks,” he whispers, and Yuuri squeezes his hand before letting go.

A million thoughts flash through Viktor’s mind – their conversations over the years, the emotion Yuuri skates his choreography with, the _almost but not quite_ moments they’ve shared the past days. If this was just a one-time thing, Viktor wouldn’t hesitate. He’d be all charms, pull Yuuri inside with a cheeky grin and crowd him against the door; he’d do all the things he wanted without worry for the morning after.

And now, it scares him. To wake up tomorrow and see regrets in Yuuri’s eyes, or worse, _disappointment_. For all his usual confidence, this is apparently the recipe to lose it. His fingers clench around the plastic card, a frown deep enough to cause the first hints of a headache between his brows – and then Yuuri walks across the threshold and kicks off his shoes like nothing about this is new.

“Which bed is yours?” he asks, turns around to look at Viktor in all his sleep-deprived glory, coat still on.

Viktor nods towards the left one, not trusting his voice, and Yuuri immediately falls down on it, face first and then turning onto his back.

“I should take off my coat,” Yuuri muses, and Viktor thinks, _you should take off everything_.

But he says nothing, only takes a tentative step inside the room. He’s not used to this, feeling on the verge of something too large for words. With Yura he had to tiptoe a lot, learn and relearn from his own mistakes; with Yuuri he doesn’t want to make any at all.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, reaches for him petulantly, like a lover playfully suffering from a few meters of distance.

Viktor goes, _of course_ , drops his expensive dry-clean only coat in a heap on the floor, gracelessly pulls his shoes off at the edge of the bed. Yuuri still wears his thick coat as Viktor sinks down on the side of the bed, one hand placed on Yuuri’s other side for leverage.

“Yes?” he asks, like they’re not practically in bed together, for the first time truly alone.

“What are you thinking about?”

Yuuri gazes up at him, lifts a hand to brush a few strands of hair to the side.

“I’m not sure,” is the only thing Viktor can say, once again struggling to draw in breaths.

His throat is clogging up, skin feverish with the need to touch. This man underneath him is too precious, too ethereal in the warm light of the bedside lamp he’d forgotten to turn off before leaving. Viktor wants to know if he’s cold from their walk, or if he’ll feel warm under Viktor’s palms should he push them up beneath his clothes.

 “Not sure?” Yuuri echoes, the deep brown of his eyes shifting between confusion and amusement.

“I mean,” Viktor starts, licks his dry lips. “I’m not sure how to tell you.”

Silence stretches between them, Viktor’s heartbeat too loud in his ears, uncomfortably strong inside his chest. There’s so much he wants to say, but maybe he drank too much, maybe it’s too early or too late – Viktor can’t do much more than stare helplessly at Yuuri as he chews his bottom lip.

“Then, I’m not sure either.”

Could it really be this easy, Viktor wonders. Words may fail them, but there’s no hesitation in Yuuri’s expression as he parts his lips in invitation. Viktor’s fingers clench the sheets, eyes flickering to Yuuri’s mouth and back up again, the fluttering behind his ribs becoming unbearable.

Maybe it’s enough, to know they’re both just as useless when it comes to taking the first step. There’s no catalyst here, in the quiet of his hotel room, no thumping music pushing them together, no alcohol to take their minds off things. There’s just – just _them_ , Yuuri’s hand finding his, the soft brush of fingers that sends shivers across his skin.

“I think about _you_ ,” he blurts out in a rush of breath, leans on his elbow to cup Yuuri’s cheek. “So much. All the time.”

Yuuri blushes, then, but a shy smile blooms on his face that Viktor can’t help but mirror. It’s tentative at first, gaining strength from the intimacy of their position, Viktor leaning over Yuuri so close that he could count each individual eyelash framing Yuuri’s shining eyes should he want to.

“I like that,” Yuuri mumbles, and something shifts then, between them, despite all the things left unsaid.

They have time. Viktor knows, somehow, that even if they aren’t on the same page right now, they’re heading there. They’ll figure something out, and Viktor is romantic enough to believe that what they have is special.

“We should sleep, miliy,” he murmurs, stroking Yuuri’s cheek with his thumb.

He can tell that Yuuri is becoming drowsy, his body most likely reminding him of its exhaustion now that he’s horizontal and able to relax.

“But you never gave me my present,” Yuuri objects, eyebrows knitted and oh so pretty.

“Present?”

He keeps stroking Yuuri’s cheek, contemplating how to coax him out of his coat, and Yuuri fights another yawn before he replies.

“You always give me a present,” he says, teeth sliding briefly over his lips. “I even won.”

Viktor blinks at him, sends a stray thought to the wrapped gift in his suitcase he’d forgotten about. Yuuri doesn’t seem like he’s talking about the moderately useful trinkets Viktor buys him simply because he can, however. Instantly the same heat that coursed through him in the bar is back, like firewood crackling with flames right underneath his clothes.

“Zolotsye, I’ll give you anything you want,” he whispers, holds his breath as he leans in, heart trembling.

The first touch is a mere brush of lips, half-hooded eyes meeting briefly just to _make sure_. All hesitation blows away with Yuuri’s hands clutching at his neck, Viktor’s eyes closing on their own accord as he moans into the kiss. It’s a little embarrassing, how affected he is already, but Yuuri doesn’t comment. Instead he combs his fingers through Viktor’s hair, tilts their heads to slot their mouths _just so_ , and it’s incredible that Viktor doesn’t slump onto Yuuri’s chest like the mess of a man he’s been made.

It feels so good it _hurts_ , Yuuri’s lips sliding wetly over his, heated breaths caught between them. Viktor is dizzy with pleasure, overflowing until all he can do is press closer, kiss harder, fall into Yuuri’s touch like he’s starved for it. There’s so much he wants that it might tear him apart, and it’s at once so frightening and wonderful that Yuuri does this to him, does all of this and more, holds his heart in his palm as they dance around each other.

Viktor wants to meet him there, in the middle, wants their dancing to merge into one brilliant piece of choreography for just the two of them.

 “Yuuri,” he sighs through kiss-swollen lips, throat thick and heart light as ever. “I really hate to be reasonable, but you need rest, and we’re drunk.”

 _And I need a cold shower_.

Yuuri blinks at him, slowly, processing his words through the irritation that they’re no longer kissing. It’s not the _first kiss_ that Viktor expected, though not too far from kisses he imagined. Still, he knows that if they keep going he’ll cross a line he wants to reach while sober, despite his body’s heavy protests.

“I didn’t even drink that much,” Yuuri insists, and Viktor can’t help but laugh brightly as he detangles himself from Yuuri’s hold.

“Of course you didn’t,” he says agreeably, holding out a hand to help Yuuri stand.

They end up kissing a little more as he rids Yuuri of his coat, hands warm as they palm over chests and hips, breathless smiles the only interruption. He can’t remember ever feeling this way, like the universe got crammed into his heart just to make enough space for this love.

Then again, he doesn’t remember ever being in love, before.

Later, after they’ve both stumbled back and forth to the bathroom, and with Yuuri curled into his chest, Viktor tries desperately to pull himself together. He holds Yuuri like he’s fragile, afraid he’ll disappear because surely, this is too good to be true? Surely in the morning it will be another wistful dream, and then he’ll wake up alone like usual, Makkachin snuggling with Yuri while Viktor pretends he isn’t lonely.

He’s fine. He always is.

He touches his lips, feels them tingle with the memory of pure bliss, and thinks-

_I’m tired of being lonely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo they finally kissed! What will this mean for the future? Will Yuuri remember anything when he wakes up? And just who was he texting, hmm...
> 
> If you thought the kissing wasn't long enough, rest assured there's more to come ☆（*ゝω・*）ﾉ
> 
> Miliy - Russian for darling


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who missed it, I posted the first part of a smut fic titled [Miliy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11471580/chapters/25721622)! It's a sort of camboy AU lol. 
> 
> I struggled a lot with this chapter, and it ended up almost 14k long. I think I've read through the first half of the chapter at least 20 times, but there are a few lines I laugh at even during round 20 so I hope you'll have fun too. 
> 
> Yuuri's exhibition skate is copied directly off Yuzuru Hanyu's [The Swan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0dJhw6WCo4) because it's so pretty. 
> 
> I listened to Yuuri's and Yuri's voice actors [singing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1NbJZ6F0aE&t=0s) while editing this. Someone else who sings very prettily is Nora, and thanks to her this chapter did not end in an alien invasion. That said, does anyone know anything about Yuuri's skating backstory?? Like, who coached him before Celestino?? I made up my own headcanon which is mentioned in this chapter, but yeah. If you have any ideas feel free to let me know!
> 
> Also, I have a very bad memory (ask Nora, she has a million stories to make fun of me for it) and she gently reminded me that this story was born while I drove her to the airport, and the reason I took the wrong exit off the highway (a part I do remember) was because I was busy trying to decide on their ages (a part I do not remember doing). So it only makes sense that I forgot about Yuuri's birthday at first... It's mentioned in chapter 2 that his birthday is on the last day of the event and I was so sure I had it be the Monday right after? Ah well. In real life, the NHK trophy in 2015 was set on the 27th-29th of November in Nagano, so that's why. 
> 
> I'm also trying to decide where to set the final. In the anime it's in Sochi, but in real life it was in Barcelona. Now we all know why they'd pick romantic Barcelona for the engagement, and Russia for Yuuri's first face-off against Viktor. But in this fic... I can't decide lol. I'm very happy that the Japanese Nationals that year was in Sapporo, because I'll be visiting Nora there during August!
> 
> Sorry for babbling, it's the sangría probs. Enjoy!! 
> 
> ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

The first thought that manages to filter through Yuuri’s muddled brain, is that he’s entirely too warm. The second thing is the incessant buzzing against his thigh, which probably means he drank a lot (judging by the awful taste in his mouth) and then fell asleep in his regular clothes, forgetting to remove his phone from his pocket.

He decides to fall back asleep.

The problem is this – his phone just. Won’t. _Stop_.

Squirming around, he fights with the sheets to reach his pocket, cursing Phichit for forcing him into too tight jeans. He goes out partying so rarely that he keeps forgetting such things as _hangovers_ , and this one seems like it’s _bad_.

“Mmph,” is all his dry throat can produce as he drops the phone next to his head, after pressing the speaker button.

Face buried in his pillow, he contemplates skipping practice. It must be Celestino calling about morning practice, right? What day is it anyway.

_“Yuuri?”_

Wow, that sounded distinctly unlike his coach, and a lot like his childhood friend Yuuko. They haven’t talked in a while. He should feel bad about it, but right now everything feels terrible. He’s _so_ warm. And heavy. Does he have a fever, maybe? He’s too numb to know if the heaviness is from some dumb drunken idea to bring ten duvets to bed – never mind that he doesn’t even own ten duvets – or if the hangover is just that bad.

Or, god forbid, he and Phichit fell asleep together and now he’s being smothered in his sleep. It has happened. Yuuri woke up dry humping him once, mumbling about Viktor in Japanese.

It was even worse than it sounds.

“ _Katsuki Yuuri, did you fall asleep on me? You can’t just text me in the middle of the night and then answer your phone in your sleep! I’m too excited to wait for you to wake up!”_

Slowly, Yuuri forcefully blinks himself into consciousness. For Yuuko to call him like this, something big must have happened. Is she pregnant again? He can’t even imagine the terror a younger sibling to those triplets would be. Sure, the past five years he only skyped with them and met them at Nationals and the occasional ice show, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m not ready to be an uncle again,” he says, turning on his back and reaching for his phone to talk like a normal person, except–

_“What? An uncle? What are you talking about, Yuuri! You texted me last night about-“_

“Wait.”

Yuuko falls silent, and Yuuri tries deep breaths, eyes clenched shut against reality. He’s not in Detroit, he remembers. There was supposed to be a competition this weekend. Right. NHK Trophy. He’s in Japan. He thinks?

“Yuuko? I’m in Japan for the NHK Trophy, right?”

_“Yes, of course! Why, what’s wrong? Are you alright? Wait, are you hungover? Yuuri, what sort of example is that for the kids, and on your birthday, too! At least tell me your boyfriend took care of you!”_

Yuuri sucks air into his lungs, wondering if he woke up in an alternate reality where he has a boyfriend. He hopes it’s Viktor. Because that would make the arm slung across his chest a lot less concerning, probably.

“I think I’m still asleep. Or drunk. Hungover. What did I text you last night?”

He rubs his face with the hand not holding his phone, thinking _why am I like this_. He’s not ready to open his eyes and confirm whether or not Viktor is the source of heat next to him in bed. It’s better if he doesn’t check, because then he can pretend it’s Viktor, and last night was actually their wedding night and Yuuri had gotten drunk on too much expensive champagne and all was good in the world.

He can dream, right?

_“You texted me to ask if you can use Ice Castle Hasetsu for two weeks until the Grand Prix final! Everyone is so excited that you’re coming home for a while! You should bring Viktor, we’re all dying to meet him!”_

Well, that settles it. He did wake up in an alternate reality, probably switched with the Yuuri of this universe, and now the poor guy must be incredibly confused that it’s not the morning after his wedding.

“I think I need to throw up,” he says, and clicks the end call button.

He doesn’t. Sure enough his phone starts vibrating two seconds later, and Yuuri pushes it underneath the pillow. Maybe-maybe-not-Viktor pulls him closer, nuzzles into his shoulder, and Yuuri thinks that actually, a mad dash to the bathroom seems like a great idea right about now. Except he doesn’t have time to follow through on his plan, because there’s a knock on the door followed by very impolite banging, and he’s still too disoriented to do anything but stumble out of bed and open it.

It doesn’t even occur to him that opening the door to someone else’s hotel room might be a bad idea, but it doesn’t matter anyway because when he squints against the light and his less than stellar vision, it’s Phichit and Yuri on the other side.

Phichit gasps, smacking his hands over his cheeks and looking utterly scandalized.

“Yuuri? What are _you_ doing here?” he asks, so teasing that Yuuri regrets buying him the special and expensive hamster food last time he went shopping.

“Yuuri!” The child sounds a lot more excited than his roommate did, immediately jumping forwards and latching onto his leg. “Did you have a sleepover without me? No fair!”

“I, we were, I mean-“ His stammering only has Phichit’s eyebrows rise higher, the amount of glee in his dark eyes too much for Yuuri’s poor brain.

“Where’s dad? Sleeping? I’ll fix that!”

Yuri lets him go, running into the room and soon enough there’s a thump as he lands on the bed, and a groan that does sound like Viktor.

Which means that yes, it was actually Viktor he shared the bed with. Huh. He should have enjoyed it when he had the chance.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Phichit purrs, sidling up to him with a smug grin. “I’m _so_ happy to see you did something about it.”

Then he slaps Yuuri on the chest, jumping up and down while making strangled noises of excitement.

“You did it!” he half whispers, as if Viktor couldn’t possibly hear him from this short a distance. “You got the hot Russian dad!”

“I,” Yuuri starts, having no idea how to continue. There’s murmured Russian from inside the room, and what sounds like Yuri complaining.

“Well done! I’m proud!”

Not trusting his voice, Yuuri manages a weak smile towards Phichit, all the while panicking internally.

He’s really done it now. He’s tricked not just Phichit, but also his entire family into believing that Viktor wants him just as much as Yuuri wants him. God, what even happened last night? He doesn’t think he wants to be around people when he remembers.

There’s rustling to be heard now, and Yuuri stiffens as footsteps announce Viktor and Yuri joining them in the cramped hallway.

“Morning,” Viktor yawns, stretching.

He looks amazing. Yuuri can’t even look at him but he knows he looks amazing, because he always does, and he’s so _fucked_.

“Good morning!” Phichit chirps, as always too excited too early in the morning. “Sorry, but I’ll have to steal Yuuri from you now. He’s got to prep for the exhibition!”

Yuuri wasn’t feeling nauseated before, but he might just start now. Never mind the gold medal he won, he has to skate in front of people while those people have seen him _being carried_ by Viktor. It’s coming back to him now, in bits and pieces. Skating his heart out. Viktor waiting for him at the kiss and cry. Chris teasing him on the podium for winning more than gold. And then the party – and this is where it starts to get blurry.

“That’s a shame,” Viktor says, voice a little rough with sleep and Yuuri can just die right now, thank you and please. “I was hoping we could have breakfast together, at least.”

Ignoring the wink Phichit sends his way, Yuuri clears his throat and pretends his brain isn’t stuck on figuring out what _at least_ means. There’s a faint buzz coming from the bed.

“My phone,” he blurts out, rushing in to retrieve it from its hiding place under the pillow.

There are 4 missed calls, from Celestino. Five from Phichit. He supposes he lucked out when he answered and it was Yuuko. There’s just one missed call from her, probably right after he hung up.

Holy shit, she said he asked to borrow the ice rink for two weeks?! Yuuri can’t deal with this right now. He zombie walks back to the door, finds his shoes and his coat and gives Yuri an absentminded pat to the head.

“I have to…” he trails off, glances up at Viktor and blushes so much he thinks the rest of his body will die from blood loss. “Okay bye.”

“Ah, Yuuri?”

Ignoring Viktor is terribly difficult, but Yuuri needs to cry a bit in the shower before he faces the world.

“We’ll see you at the arena later!” Viktor calls, and Yuuri speed walks down the corridor to escape.

Phichit will surely chastise him for it, but right now his head is a mess and he’s got no idea which images are memories and which are self-indulgent fantasy.

“Yuuri, oh my god,” Phichit says as he catches up with him, “you need to stop running away from stuff.”

Stuff is probably code for Viktor.

“Just kill me now,” he groans into his hands, shuffling into the elevator once the doors slide open.

“You can’t die, Yuuri! You have to tell me all the details!”

Phichit paws at him, only stopping when Yuuri wearily holds out a hand. Sometimes, Yuuri feels so old, between the two of them. Then he remembers how he’s floundering through life and wonders if there’s hope for either of them. Phichit really needs a better role model.

“I’m hungover,” he states, as the elevator reaches the hotel lobby. “And I’ve got nothing to tell.”

For a brief, relieving moment Phichit is quiet, and Yuuri dares to hope he’ll be left alone.

“I have pictures,” Phichit says, because of course nothing in life can be easy. “Since it seems you’ve forgotten. Sadly I don’t have pictures of what you got up to _after_ the party, but I’m sure it was all _very_ -“

“ _Phichit!_ ”

“What, don’t you want to see them? I’d ask if we interrupted something this morning but Viktor seemed to be asleep so… good job wearing him out! Too bad your birthday can’t start just as steamy, huh?”

_Phichit is my best friend. I love him. I will forgive him. I will-_

“Honestly Yuuri, I just need to know if our plan worked. Did you declare your love for each other or not!?”

Of course, Phichit asks this in the middle of the lobby, very loud, and there are several heads turning.

_That’s it. I’m moving out._

Despite knowing that he will probably room with Phichit for eternity, since he obviously must have made a terrible embarrassment of himself in front of Viktor, Yuuri viciously imagines for a minute how he gathers up his stuff while Phichit cries about how Yuuri should think of the babies (hamsters).

It works to calm him down, somewhat, and once outside he inhales the chilly morning air before turning towards his ‘best friend in the whole wide world, Yuuri! Don’t you love me anymore?’ and pinning him down with a heavy glare.

“I don’t want to know what this plan is and you’re banned from asking questions until the exhibition is over.”

Phichit blanches.

“But Yuuri! You can’t do this to me! There’s like, six hours until then!”

This time, it’s Yuuri’s turn to blanch. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, staring in disgust at the numbers spelling out 8:07am to him. _Why_. Sure, they both have to be there from the beginning when they introduce all the skaters, but Yuuri skates last and Phichit is somewhere in the middle. Usually sixth place wouldn’t give you a spot but the audience _loves_ Phichit and the JSF knows it.

Will he even be over his hangover until then? Celestino is going to _kill_ him. It’s a good thing there aren’t any jumps in his exhibition program, but oh god, the spins. He might as well just hide in his closet instead.

“Yuuuuri.” Phichit pokes his arm, blinking innocently at him when he bothers to look. “I can see you thinking and it doesn’t look good.”

“I don’t feel good,” Yuuri admits, wishing desperately for a bottle of water and some aspirin. And that shower. “If your plan was to get me drunk, I now hate you forever.”

Phichit only pats his back, like the true friend he is.

“I have no regrets,” he says, pushing him forwards towards their hotel. “Think of it as your present!”

Yuuri just wishes he could remember if _he_ has any regrets.

♡♡♡

Sighing dreamily, Viktor folds clothes and places them neatly in their bags. After a quick breakfast and their usual stretches, he and Yuri started cleaning up the hotel room. Viktor still needs to shower, but Yuri is in there and will probably stay in there until Viktor tells him they’re in a hurry. It is, at least, giving him ample of alone time to dream about Yuuri. Their flight leaves in the evening, and he hopes they’ll have time to talk with Yuuri before leaving. He needs to wish him happy birthday at the very least. He only wishes he’d known things would turn out like this, because then he would have planned something more special for today.

If all they have time for is a quick chat, Viktor supposes he’ll just have to live off the memories until the final. He’s so, so glad it’s just two weeks until then. He’s already feeling withdrawal symptoms from Yuuri’s absence, and he glances at the gold medal lying on the bed that Yuri had forgotten to return. Not that there had been much time in the morning, considering they woke up so late.

Though, to be honest, Viktor needs another 12 hours of sleep before he will feel functional again. The headache is no longer threatening to split his head open, but it’s not _pleasant_.

He didn’t even get to wake up with Yuuri still in bed so he could shower him in love. How cruel is the world?

“Papa!” Yuri calls from inside the bathroom, and Viktor groans as he gets on his feet.

This is why he stopped drinking. Actually, no. He stopped because he found himself with an armful of four-year-old, and it was either stop or risk drinking too much. Still, he hasn’t missed being hungover.

“What is it, Yurochka?” he calls through the door, jumping back when it’s thrown open.

“What time is it?”

Yuri looks at him with urgency, hair dripping with water.

“A little past nine. I was just about to tell you to come out.”

“Oh, okay.”

He slams the door shut again, and Viktor winces. He’s going to become an adorable teenager, for sure. Viktor finishes packing, then takes a quick shower once Yura is done. He thinks of Yuuri the whole time, the glitter in his eyes while they danced, the taste of his skin underneath his lips. He thinks of how impossibly lucky he is, to have been blessed with his kisses. There’s probably a sappy smile on his face the whole time, because Viktor has never been this infatuated with someone.

So much of his life was spent on loving ballet, and on loving his son. It’s been good for the most part, of course, and he has nothing to complain about. Yuuri’s existence, however, was always a reminder that there are more ways to love. Admiration, attraction, that feeling of anticipation when you’re about to meet someone you’ve been thinking about for months. All the little things that add up to something _huge_.

So many years of pining in secret, of not admitting to himself that he could want this – and then everything happened so fast he could barely keep up. He’d been so determined to resign himself to being just a fan that thinking of himself as something else in relation to Yuuri feels almost wrong.

Fussing over his hair a final time, he winks at himself in the mirror. _You’ve got this_ , he tells himself, a rush of excitement filling his chest. _I don’t know how it’s going to work out, but I’ve got this._

I’ve got _him_.

♡♡♡

Celestino thinks himself to be a rather lenient coach, mindful of his top skater’s sensitive heart. However, Yuuri looks like he’s about to faint any second, worse than he’s seen him in _years_ , even worse than that time he tried to skate with a high fever two years ago.

Phichit seems happy enough – and he supposes that if things had gone wrong with that Russian choreographer he would be furiously typing on his phone to discredit him on social media.

That does not rule out things happening within Yuuri’s head, however. Once the introduction of all the skaters were over and there would be approximately two and a half hours left until Yuuri’s turn to skate, his student had found a corner and hid in it, earphones shoved into his ears. He’d given him ten minutes to sort things out on his own, but it seems the time has come for an intervention.

He leaves Phichit with strict instructions to keep track of time, and sits down next to Yuuri with some difficulty. Knowing that Yuuri will talk when he’s ready, he sits silent for a while and observes the busy lounge instead. There’s a mix of skaters from all four disciplines milling around together with their coaches, congratulating each other and taking pictures. Yuuri was never much for socializing, though he can see Christophe Giacometti sending concerned glances his way. It’s good to know he has at least one friend here besides Phichit.

“Sorry, Celestino-sensei,” Yuuri says quietly, taking out his earphones and spinning the cords between his fingers. “I’m not in great shape today.”

“Well, you know your body best, Yuuri, but there’s no point getting injured now. Something on your mind?”

Yuuri squirms, a clear sign that Celestino hit the nail. A hangover never stopped him from performing his exhibition before, though there is a reason Celestino forbid any jumps after a night of drinking.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, which is never a good sign. “I just-“

He curls in on himself, arms hugging his knees to his chest and face buried against them. Heaving a sigh, Celestino pushes at his shoulder.

“Turn around, I’ll give you a massage.”

If Yuuri is surprised he doesn’t show it, merely scoots around until Celestino has room enough to start kneading his tense muscles.

This way, Yuuri can hide his face as much as he wants without anyone thinking it strange.

“You’re very tense,” he notes, pressing into the base of his neck.

It doesn’t feel like old muscle knots, however, rather the fact that Yuuri is stressing over something and unable to relax.

“Sorry,” Yuuri whispers again, and Celestino has to wonder if this really isn’t about Viktor.

“You know, Yuuri, I’m very proud of you. You did shock me a bit, and I know I told you not to change too much and you went ahead anyway, but I’m happy you trust yourself. As your coach, I must of course always ask you to be careful.”

Yuuri lets out an indistinct noise, marginally relaxing under Celestino’s hands.

“And what a nice surprise, hmm? A new world record! I almost fainted when you did the flip!”

He shakes Yuuri just a little, in an attempt to loosen him up. It works at least enough to make Yuuri laugh a bit in protest, and Celestino returns to kneading his shoulders firmly.

“I just wanted to win…” Yuuri mumbles, and Celestino has to shake his head because _this boy, really_.

So much talent and hard work packed into such a deceptively demure person. He knew, better than anyone, just how much Yuuri hates to lose.

“And did you win?” he asks, because he’s not sure the trailed off sentence was aiming to end with ‘the gold medal’.

“Maybe,” Yuuri says, after a long pause. “But I…”

“Yes?”

Yuuri groans, tensing up again despite Celestino’s hard work.

“I accidentally drunk texted my friend Yuuko who runs the ice rink at home yesterday that I’m coming back to practice for the final, and now my family thinks I’ll travel straight to Hasetsu tomorrow.”

Sensing there is more to come, Celestino merely hums, pushing his thumbs into Yuuri’s back along his spine.

“You’re not mad?”

Meeting Yuuri’s eyes as he peeks over his shoulder, Celestino grins at him.

“No,” he says, chuckling a little. “You’ve always done things the way you wanted to, even if you _do_ listen better than Phichit.”

When Yuuri frowns suspiciously at him, he shrugs.

“Will you have enough time on the ice there?” he asks, knowing that in the past, Yuuri could use his home rink much as he pleased.

“I-“ Yuuri turns his head, takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if I’m going yet.”

“And what’s stopping you?”

Ah. Judging by how Yuuri’s body turns to stone under his touch, he can tell that this is where the issue lies. He continues to prod and knead at Yuuri’s back and shoulders and neck, nodding when Phichit sees them and silently asks if everything’s okay.

“They, um. They want me to bring Viktor.”

“And you don’t want to bring him?”

“No! I mean!” Yuuri turns around, wringing his hands and staring at the floor with such a lost look that Celestino can only retreat his hands and wait. “How could I ask that of him?”

He gives Celestino a pleading look, as if wishing there was a magic spell his coach could chant and everything would be solved.

“He already did so much for me, two whole new programs and practicing with me and supporting me and being so, so-“

Yuuri falters, swallows hard. He picks up his water bottle but doesn’t drink from it, only turns it in his hands before putting it down again.

“I think I kissed him,” he whispers, like he can’t believe the words even as he says them out loud.

Now, Celestino is a good coach, a lenient and fatherly one, but what do you do when your record-winning, figure skating champion, all-around crazy enough to do five quads because _why not_ , and also very _young_ student just pulled programs like that because the guy he likes made them, and then sits in a corner fretting over whether or not he’s allowed to ask him to go with him to his childhood home for two weeks to train.

“I think,” Celestino tells him, having made up his mind, “that you should go to Hasetsu and think about the rest after the exhibition is over. Alright?”

Yuuri blinks at him, lips pursed, but Celestino pats his back and stands up. He has an idea on what to do for Yuuri’s birthday present now…

“I just remembered a few things I need to do, but it’ll work out. Even I can tell that this Viktor of yours would gladly go with you if he can.”

When Yuuri is still unconvinced, Celestino winks at him.

“Just leave it for after the exhibition. I’ll see what I can do!”

“Celestino-sensei-!”

He waves at his student as he leaves, heading for the Russian contingent. Like everyone else, Celestino has read the blog post from last night that talked about Viktor, slapping his forehead that he’d forgotten that he is Lilia’s student who has until recently been married to Yakov, and Yakov is _right there_.

“Yakov, old friend!” he calls when he finds him glaring down at his phone, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “We have much to discuss!”

Despite Yakov’s absolute displeasure at seeing him – they haven’t been rivals per se, but their students certainly have been for years – it goes something like this:

Yakov is surprisingly easy to convince, but then again, he has seen it all happen with his own eyes, too. Viktor couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

Lilia is much more difficult, complaining that everyone seems to think of figure skating as more important than ballet, and Viktor has _responsibilities_.

Despite this, she begrudgingly admits that her little Vitya seems irreversibly fond of ‘that Japanese skater’, much to her dislike, and calls Minako to confirm the arrangements both with the invitation and to make sure that Viktor has access to her studio.

After cackling with laughter for a minute or so, Minako promises not to try and steal Viktor to work for her (how would she pay him, anyway? She barely has students) and they spend a much longer while than either will admit reminiscing over the past and their respective favorite students.

(“I still think Yuuri is too good for him,” Minako says before they end the call, huffing at Lilia’s snort.

“You’ve seen my Vitya. There is no better.”

“Ah well, Yuuri always liked pretty things.”

It was only by reminding herself that they were to become not-quite mothers-in-law that Lilia did not end the call right there.)

Minako then calls Celestino, letting him know that all has been arranged, and the only thing left is for the plane tickets to be booked.

And that is that, pretty much.

♡♡♡

Viktor only notices the call because he’s taking pictures, trying to find a good angle of the ice and all the cute kids performing between medalists. He’s surprised, a little wary, but puts the phone to his ear anyway.

“Lilia?”

_“Vitya. I want you to know that I am not encouraging this in any way.”_

He blinks.

“Encouraging what?”

_“Your extended vacation. But this nice Italian man called and explained it to me, and I decided that between firing you for taking yet another unauthorized vacation, I might as well grant it to you.”_

Viktor hasn’t felt this out of the loop since his mother called three weeks ago and talked about his father being released from the hospital, without first informing him he’d been there in the first place (just a sprained wrist, but nevertheless confusing for him).

“I’m… getting an extended vacation?”

_“I know what you’re thinking, Vitya, and normally I wouldn’t be nearly so lenient. But…”_

She pauses and Viktor braces himself for, well, he’s not sure what for.

_“I’ve known you since you were just a tiny little sparrow who cried when there were tangles in your hair. And Vitya?”_

Ah, so that’s what he was bracing himself for – embarrassing childhood memories.

“Yes, Lilia,” he sighs, following the intricate patterns of the kids spinning around each other.

_“I have never seen such an embarrassing display as yesterday on TV. My prideful Vitya on his knees for some skater! Have you learnt nothing from me!”_

He bites his lips against a laugh, thinking it wouldn’t sit well with her this close to the divorce. But no, he probably hasn’t, in that regard.

_“So I thought, if it has come to this, then my Vitya has found love at last, and I should overlook the fact that he had the bad taste to pick Minako’s principal danseur. She doesn’t even have a school to her name!”_

“I understand, Madame,” he says meekly, still stifling laughter.

His heart sings too loud, and some of it must be noticeable in his voice, because she sighs in that very fond way she would when he did come crying about tangled hair.

_“You may teach him until the Grand Prix final. However, I am still expecting you to complete the choreography for the mid-winter performances, do you understand? And don’t slack off with your own training, you are not as young as you once were!”_

“Yes, of course,” he replies, still clueless as to where he’ll be teaching Yuuri and why, and whether or not Yuuri had thought about informing him of this before his flight tonight.

_“And if Yura needs to be home for school, he can go with Yakov or we will meet him at the airport. Makkachin will continue to stay with me. He is good company, unlike most.”_

He smiles, then, heart aching from her care for him. Where would he be in life without Lilia? Probably on some party island drinking umbrella drinks and cheating on his multiple girlfriends, like his cousins. (May Yuuri never meet them, he prays.)

“Thank you.”

As simple as the words are, he hopes she can tell how truly touched he is. He glances down at his son, who is yet again chewing on his sleeve, enraptured by the performance below them. Being here is such a stark contrast to their everyday life, with Viktor so busy and Yuri so unhappy about his classes.

_“Vitya.”_

“Yes?”

_“If you take Yura and move to America I will disown you.”_

He laughs, then, high and bright and heads turn to look at him but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, poking his son’s cute little nose when it scrunches in a frown at all the noise he’s making. “Do you want to talk to him?”

_“Of course!”_

He hands the phone to Yuri, who eagerly tells Lilia everything there is to know about Yuuri Katsuki and the competition results, though some of it she’s surely heard before. Perhaps this time she listens a little closer. He keeps smiling, putting his arm around Yuri and burrowing his nose into his hair, wondering how he could possibly get so lucky.

On the ice, the pair skater bronze medalists go wild with an upbeat pop song, and then Yuri is done talking and hands the phone back to him.

“Papa,” he says, clapping along with the rest of the audience. “When I do my exhibition skates I’ll pick something much cooler than this.”

“Oh?”

Viktor holds the phone in his hands, tapping it against his thigh in thought.

“Yeah, something with lots of flashing lights and really loud music and _all_ the jumps!”

“ _All_ the jumps?” Viktor smiles, sifting his fingers through blond strands as Yuri kicks his feet.

“Yuuri will teach me.”

There is only confidence in his voice, and Viktor supposes that the future is already decided before his eyes. He wishes it really were that easy. He _hopes_ it is.

“I’m sure he will,” he murmurs, opening up the messaging app, thumb hovering over the letters.

_11:58  
[So a certain someone (my boss) just told me I’m getting a two-week vacation to help you prepare for the final?]_

_[I just wanted to check she didn’t get anything wrong!]_

_[Because obviously we’d love to go_ ♥～(‘▽^人) _]_

 

Is the kaomoji too much? But they did kiss last night… He exits the app, deciding to tell Yura once he’s gotten it confirmed from Yuuri. Honestly, getting to spend two more weeks in Yuuri’s company is too good to be true, and yet his chest aches at the thought. Even better – he doesn’t need to worry about the small gift hiding in his bag being good enough of a birthday present. He can spend the whole week and a half leading up to the final gifting Yuuri with programs perfected down to the very last detail.

When there is no reply after five minutes, he guesses that Yuuri is too busy preparing for his skate. Still, he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips or the anticipation causing his heart to skip a beat.

Two weeks is a long time, after all.

Two weeks might even be long enough to figure things out.

♡♡♡

Yuuri made a terrible mistake.

He left his safe little corner and went to find Phichit, who was with Chris, who then waved over anyone who looked even remotely interested in conversation.

There were comments to remind him.

Pictures.

Several videos courtesy of Chris.

Slowly, bits and pieces fit together in Yuuri’s fuzzy brain, until he believes he has a good idea of what happened at the bar last night.

Yes, he’s done body shots before, but _not like this_.

Yes, he’s danced while drunk before, _but not like this_.

And no, he never followed anyone to their hotel room (except Chris, because they were both too drunk to walk on their own), but he is not completely clueless. He knows what people get up to when their inhibitions are let loose (and when they’re a little bit in love) but he’s _fairly_ certain there weren’t any sexy times happening last night.

Which is good, _great_ , because if he ever gets to that point with Viktor he wants to be half-sober at least.

Right now, he wishes there weren’t rules against drinking before performing, because he’s a _mess_. Despite his friends trying to reassure him of the opposite, he’s sure he made a fool of himself in front of Viktor. Body shots? _Really?_

 _Such class, Katsuki,_ he thinks to himself as he splashes cold water on his face.

Now what? He couldn’t even bear to look at the video of Viktor licking alcohol off his chest – okay he looked a little bit, but he’s only human, and Chris sent it to him anyway – and he’s just thankful that there’s an unspoken rule between all the skaters that whatever happens at after parties stays between them. Sponsors do not need to know.

 _Yuuri_ doesn’t want to know. That’s the point of being a terrible drunk like his father. He’s pretty sure his dad once told him _son, whatever you do, make sure you don’t remember it in the morning_. Or maybe that was Minako. His memory is, after all, not that good when he drinks.

It’s just. He doesn’t mind forgetting the dancing (except he does), and he doesn’t mind forgetting the body shot (he has a video), _but_. Kissing? He needs to _know_.

…he will never muster up the courage to ask.

This much he knows about himself, that he is absolutely useless when it comes to things such as, what is that expression… Taking the bull by its horns? He’d rather run in the opposite direction. It’s a lot more logical if a bull is charging towards you.

Kind of like he’s doing now, hoping no one else wants to use the restroom. He knows he needs to come out soon and get into his costume, and he should definitely ask Phichit for help. It’s made of such sheer fabric littered with little white feathers and Swarovski crystals that he always fears it will break just by him breathing.

He’s going out last, and one of the JSF officials asked him to stay by the rink right after and then get on again, to let the audience ‘appropriately thank him for his world record’. He just hopes he doesn’t get dizzy and falls on his ass halfway through. For now, he enjoys the moment of solitude, trying to follow Celestino’s advice to not think about anything until the gala performances are over.

But how can he not? Just the thought of Viktor and Yuri coming with him to Hasetsu is more than he can handle. He especially wasn’t calmed by Celestino’s mysterious announcement that he’ll take care of things. Honestly, he just wants to get this over with and then collapse in his hotel room, letting blissful sleep consume him. Trying to decide if the blurry images of Viktor’s lips on his were real or not only makes it more difficult to come up with some kind of way to ask Viktor without sounding either inconsiderate of his life or embarrassingly assuming.

He should have said no to Chris. He should have joined the movie night instead, just indulging in sugary snacks. It’s been so long since he ate melon bread…

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he gives his reflection a grimace. Then it vibrates again, and again, before falling silent. It’s a bad idea to check, probably. He does it anyway.

It’s Viktor.

Pocketing the phone again he takes a steadying grip on the sink, staring at his face. Then he laughs, incredulous, because _how is his life even real?_ He just changed the choreography he’s spent months perfecting on a whim, broke his own world record, woke up in the arms of his crush, drunk texted his family that he’s coming home to visit. It’s all he can do to just stand there, pressing his palms to his overheated cheeks, eyes wide in wonder.

He’d started this season thinking he would crash and burn, and now he’s _thrilled_.

Heart beating too loud in his ears, he tries to sort through what needs to be done. Plane tickets need to be canceled, new ones bought, do Viktor and Yuri need a new hotel room? Does Yuuri have enough _budget_ for this?

He laughs again, because what else can he do? It spills like bubbles from his lips, his body trembling slightly with the confusion of going from anxious to relieved to happy to anxious again. He’ll be so distracted during his exhibition that he’ll be surprised if he even remembers the steps.

For now, he’s so distracted that he jumps high as someone slams the door open, spinning around to find Phichit.

“Found you!” Phichit declares, running up to give him a hug, for some reason spinning them so that Yuuri’s back is towards the mirrors. “What are you doing in here, laughing to yourself?”

“I was just- Phichit, why are you lifting up my shirt?”

“No reason!” Phichit lets go of him, beaming. “So what did you think of my exhibition, huh? You disappeared right after.”

“Oh, sorry.” Yuuri squirms, correcting his glasses on his nose. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“I did, _but_. What’s got you so distracted today? Don’t tell me it’s a certain someone, hmm?”

“No! I mean, a little bit? I can’t help it Phichit, you know what happened last night, and-“

Yuuri pauses. Phichit has been angling his phone towards the whole time they talked, and now keeps it suspiciously still.

“And?”

“Phichit, are you recording this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Yuuri!”

“I can’t believe you pulled up my shirt on camera!”

“Yuuri, this is for the greater good! And by greater good I mean everyone crying themselves to sleep over your back muscles!”

Groaning, Yuuri buries his face in his hands. At least he didn’t have time to say anything too incriminating.

“Our friendship is _over_ ,” he moans, glaring through his fingers at his laughing best friend.

“Oh please, Yuuri. You say that once a day.”

“Fine. I’ll never cook for you again.”

“No!” Phichit gasps, turning the phone towards himself instead. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Yuuri’s cooking is to _die_ for. We’re all waiting for that cooking show you promised us!”

“I promise you’ll have something else to _die_ for if you don’t stop filming!”

“Yuuri, no! Don’t hurt me like this!”

As Yuuri tries to grab Phichit’s phone, the other man switches over to begging in Thai. Unfortunately it doesn’t help as Yuuri finally comes out victorious, wrestling the phone (carefully) out of Phichit’s death grip and checking if it’s still recording. It is.

“You see that?” he says, pointing the camera towards the fake pouting, still laughing Phichit. “That’s the face of a man who’ll be punished for his crimes.”

“Yuuri, don’t do this to me. Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

Phichit’s pleading would have been a lot more convincing if he wasn’t desperately trying to stop laughing.

“The verdict is… no curry for two weeks!”

Phichit screams in (fake) despair, going down on his knees, hands stretched towards the ceiling.

“Not-“ he sniffles, curling in on himself, and Yuuri really doesn’t want to know how unsanitary the floor is. “Not the _curry_ ,” he wails, sobbing into his hands.

“Phichit.”

“I won’t survive,” Phichit sobs, shoulders shaking.

“Phichit, I stopped recording.”

Immediately he stands up again, brushing off his tracksuit pants and mumbling to himself in Thai.

“This better give me a shit ton of views,” he complains, holding out his hand for the phone. “I can’t believe you took my literal child and hurt me like this.”

“Yeah… Sorry about the curry though.”

At this, Phichit freezes, mouth open in horror.

“But Yuuri,” he whispers. “We always celebrate with your Japanese curry after competitions. You’re _really_ going to punish me?”

“Ah, no, about that…”

He cringes, feeling like an awful friend because Phichit did great this competition and even though Phichit had been extremely suspicious of the brown, dull-looking dish at first, he’d come to love it despite the lack of appropriately spicy seasoning.

 “Did something happen?” Phichit comes closer again, leaning against the row of sinks. “You did look pretty spaced out when I first peeked inside.”

“Yeah, the thing is, I’ll be going home to prepare for the final. To Hasetsu, I mean.”

“Really? Yuuri, that’s so nice!” Phichit hugs him again, without ulterior motives this time. “But why? And what about Ciao Ciao!”

As Yuuri explains what happened, Phichit looks increasingly excited about it.

“Aah, I wish I could go with you! I’d babysit for you!” He winks, snickering at Yuuri’s red cheeks. “But wow, so does this mean you two are official?”

“Um, no?”

“Yuuri! Oh my god! There’s no way you can think this is going to be strictly professional!”

“I do need to think about the final,” Yuuri mumbles, and Phichit groans in frustration.

“I know how single-minded you can get when you’ve got a competition coming up, but Yuuri, _please_. Think about yourself a little, too?”

“You think I don’t think about it?” Yuuri’s tired, and things are happening faster than he can keep up. “It’s _all_ I think about. Do you know why I didn’t want to retire even when I thought it was probably going to happen since everything felt like shit? Because of Viktor! Because if I retire, I won’t get to see him again! Even if I knew my season would go to hell with my old programs I just couldn’t quit!”

“Yuuri…”

“I love you Phichit, but trust me, _I’ve been thinking about it_. And right now, Viktor is choreographing for me and all my sponsors expect me to break another record to prove this mess wasn’t, in fact, me wanting to impress the guy I like.”

He gives Phichit a helpless look, lifting his hands to the sides.

“And honestly, the only reason I want to go to the final is to impress him even more. Because-” He draws in a shaky breath, breaking eye contact. “Because with his choreography, it feels like I’m skating something meaningful. So if he rejects me…”

Phichit takes hold of his arms, then, forcing Yuuri to look at him.

“Yuuri, listen. I know you might not believe me, but I _know_ that Viktor likes you. It’s obvious. He _wants_ you.”

“He didn’t tell you that.”

He knows he’s being unreasonable, but it’s just not realistic. It’s too good to be true. And even if Viktor does like him, how would it even work? They live on opposite sides of the planet!

“He doesn’t need to.”

They stare at each other, Phichit earnest and Yuuri biting at his lips.

“He’s going with you to Hasetsu for two weeks, that’s got to count for something! He literally _licked_ your stomach last night.”

“I-“

“Hey, it’s okay, Yuuri. How much did you even sleep these past days? You should be sleeping right now. I’d make you eat if I didn’t see Chris forcing food into you earlier.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m being irrational.”

Phichit squeezes him, an apologetic smile on his face.

“And I didn’t realize I was being so pushy, sorry about that. I was too excited since you’ve liked him for so long.”

“Don’t remind me,” Yuuri sighs, but he feels marginally better now.

It wasn’t precisely a pep talk, but some part of it must have worked because his nerves feel less frazzled now.

“I should get into costume,” he says, “sorry again for being so-“

“Nuh-uh,” Phichit tells him, putting a finger over his mouth. “We’ve talked about this.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, but he does manage a small smile.

“Thanks,” he says instead, “for listening.”

(It’s not until later that he realizes he forgot to tell Phichit not to post the video, but by then it’s already too late of course.)

When Yuuri steps onto the ice again, he feels calmer. He texted Yuuko to let her know they’ll arrive tomorrow, as well as Mari to make sure there’s a room prepared for Viktor and Yuri. He is definitely ignoring all their questions, but at least he did it. It’s official now – he gets to show his home to Viktor and Yuri, gets to spend time with them outside competitions, and just the thought of introducing his mother’s katsudon and soaking in the onsen leaves him with a warm sensation in his chest.

He makes a slow lap around the ice, trying to ignore the lavishing praise vibrating through the arena from the loudspeakers. Sometimes Minako links him articles and fan page discussions to prove that he’s extremely popular, but Yuuri still can’t relate to it. Sure, he won some competitions, but so did the other Japanese skaters. The focus really should be on them instead.

“Katsuki Yuuuuuri!” sounds from the speakers above, and Yuuri groans on the inside as he realizes he needs to do another lap. “Japan’s ace, twenty-two years old! Ah, wait- today is his birthday!”

There’s a smattering of birthday greetings from the audience, and the over-enthusiastic man repeats the same thing in English. Yuuri waves and smiles and bows, and then takes his position mid-ice, hoping he can start soon. As much as he likes to perform, he’s not a huge fan of the attention before or after it.

He takes a deep breath, expecting the music to start, but when it does he almost stumbles.

This is not his exhibition song.

It’s the happy birthday song.

Yuuri can only gape in surprise as the audience gets on their feet, singing in a variety of languages. It’s mostly Japanese, since that’s where they are, but there’s enough English and other languages in the mix that hardly any of it make sense to him.

What is he supposed to do, now? To be honest, the fact that today is his birthday had mostly slipped his mind with everything else going on, despite both Yuuko and Phichit reminding him in the morning. He turns around slowly, hands coming up in front of his mouth. It’s all a little too much. There are flags waving, and then thundering applause as the song finishes. What _can_ he do? He bows and bows and tells them thank you in as many languages as he knows, laughing and waving and drying maybe two tears off his cheeks.

He can finally get in position again, and someone screams their love to him in Japanese and he blows them a kiss – oh god, should _not_ have done that – and there are whistles and more screaming and at this rate, Yuuri’s just never going to start skating.

“Katsuki Yuuri-san, everyone, twenty-three years old today and this year’s gold medalist at the NHK Trophy!”

He draws in a deep breath, trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders. When the music starts for real he’s nowhere near ready, but he thinks he’s allowed a slightly shaky exhibition program this time.

Sometimes, the only thing you can do is just skate.

♡♡♡

_The interview starts with Yuuri standing in front of the sponsored background screen, still a bit sweaty from the exhibition. He gives a short nod to Morooka who is out of sight, then turns to the camera after glancing to the side, seemingly looking for something._

_“Skater Katsuki, thank you for your performance!”_

_“Thank you so much, Morooka-san.”_

_“You looked very surprised when your music didn’t start right away.”_

_Yuuri laughs a little, wiping at his brow._

_“I didn’t think everyone would suddenly stand up and sing! It was very surprising to me.”_

_“Everyone wishes you a happy birthday. You can celebrate your new record as well!”_

_A blush spreads across Yuuri’s cheeks, and he bows quickly._

_“Thank you. It wouldn’t be possible without everyone’s support. I’m grateful.”_

_“It really should be us thanking you! Such beautiful performances! You came back strong from Skate Canada.”_

_“Yes, I didn’t do my best there.” Another glance at the side, and then Yuuri clears his throat. “But I have a good feeling about the final.”_

_“Will your choreography change even more until then?”_

_“That is the plan, yes. I know it’s a strange decision but I will work hard so that I can skate my very best.”_

_“Everyone is looking forward to it!”_

_Yuuri bows again, thanking Morooka._

_“How are you going to prepare?”_

_At this, Yuuri hesitates, picking at the zipper to his jacket._

_“I’ll be returning to my home town. I can have the rink to myself for longer there, so that the programs are ready on time.”_

_“Is coach Celestino coming with you, then?”_

_“No.” Yuuri’s lips thin into a line, and he stares at Morooka as if begging him to finish the interview._

_“Then?”_

_“I, that is, um, Nikiforov-san will accompany me and-“_

_“Really?”_

_“N-not like that!” Yuuri frantically waves his hands in front of him, flustered. “I mean! It’s a great opportunity for me to work with such a talented choreographer.”_

_“This is only the third time Nikiforov-san creates programs for a skater, but as we all saw, it suited you well.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“Will we see another world record from you during the final?”_

_“We’ll see…”_

_“You did add two more quads to your free skate yesterday, what prompted such a change? You were almost twenty points in total ahead of skater Giacometti.”_

_“I wanted to compensate in case I made mistakes with the choreography.”_

_“And the quad flip?”_

_Another blush, and this time Yuuri self-consciously brushes a few stray strands of hair from his face._

_“It was… a last minute decision. It felt fine during the practice time so I ended up adding it because I touched down on the quad loop.”_

_“I see. Lots of surprises this weekend!”_

_“That’s for sure,” Yuuri laughs, and after Morooka thanks him for the interview he bows towards the camera again. “Thank you everyone for supporting me!”_

♡♡♡

Viktor and Yuri wait in the lobby, comparing all the scores over the prelims to see if there is anyone new they should keep a lookout on until Worlds. Yuuri had texted them that he’d meet them there, and Viktor is anxious to see him. Not just because they need to discuss when they’re leaving, but also because he just called his own, Yuuri’s, and a few other hotels in the nearest area asking for available rooms. Since none of them had any, he figures he could use Yuuri’s help to find something acceptable.

Honestly, he just wants to see Yuuri, but at the same time he’s not sure how to act. What are they to each other now?

“I think Cao Bin will retire soon,” Yuri says, going over statistics on his phone.

“Really? He’s not that old.”

“Yeah, but he has that knee problem, remember? We’ll see if he holds up during the final.”

“You really do know everything,” Viktor gushes, ruffling his son’s hair. “If you don’t become a professional figure skater you can always be a commentator!”

“Papa, it’s not _professional_ , that’s for skaters who only do ice shows and stuff and don’t compete. And what makes you think I can’t be both?”

“I obviously meant that you can be both.”

Yuri scoffs, poking him in the stomach with his phone.

“ _Will_ be both,” he corrects himself, and Yuri returns to scrolling.

Viktor clears his throat, rearranging his coat over his arm. Yuuri didn’t say how long he’d be, but Viktor knows he’ll be needed for a couple interviews at least. He already bought Yuri a snack to make sure he won’t have to wait on an empty stomach, but if it’s going to take long they could wait over at the mall instead…

“Viktor!”

He turns his head, spotting Phichit jogging up to them with a bright grin.

“Heeey!” Phichit says when he reaches them, stretching out his fist for a couple of complicated moves that his son perfectly replicates. “Sorry, Yuuri is being hounded by reporters so I figured I’d let you know.”

“Thanks.” Viktor shakes off the distinct feeling that he should be a little offended that his son has a secret handshake with someone he met a few days ago but not with his own father. “We don’t mind waiting, but I should find a hotel for us so we can transfer the bags.”

“No space at yours?”

Viktor shakes his head, and Phichit hums in thought.

“We were supposed to fly home tonight.”

“Phichit!” Yuri looks like he’s been trying to keep quiet, but now he’s bursting at the seams, tugging at the skater’s sleeve. “What was that jump and spin thing you did? I never saw it before!”

“Ooh, you mean the super special Chulanont miracle spin?”

Phichit grins as Yuri nods eagerly, and then winks at him.

“I’ll teach you later, okay? You’ll be the second person in the world who can do it!”

Grabbing the neck of Yuri’s coat to make sure he doesn’t run off somewhere in his excitement, Viktor smiles gratefully at Phichit. He really doesn’t need to be so nice, and Viktor didn’t even properly thank him yet!

“I didn’t have time to thank you this morning, Phichit. It was really nice of you to take care of Yuri last night.”

“Don’t worry about it, we had fun, right?” Phichit directs the last part at Yuri, grinning wide again.

“Guang-hong cried.”

Yuri says this with a solemn face, as if it was part of the fun they had, and Viktor spends a moment unsure of how to react before Phichit laughs and hugs Yuri close to his chest.

“Oh Yuri, I love you,” he says between giggles, then pulls up his phone and searches for something, handing it to Viktor once he found it. “He cried from laughter, and I’m _so_ sorry but I needed to save this video so I can show Yuuri.”

Viktor gingerly accepts the phone, takes one look and almost drops it.

“No.” Voice flat, eyes burning a hole through Phichit to reach his son who’s now hiding behind the other man. “You showed them this? Yura! You said you deleted it!”

“But dad, I _had_ to. They let me choose the second movie if I did!”

Viktor is wounded, betrayed, _soulless_.

“You sold me so cheap!” he cries, clutching at his chest. “You _said_ you _deleted_ it!”

Yuri squeals with laughter, dodging his attempts at rounding Phichit. Of course, Viktor knew that Yuri still had the recording. He just didn’t think it would end up watched by Phichit.

“Don’t worry Viktor, you’re adorable,” Phichit assures him, which isn’t reassuring at all.

He sends one last look at Phichit’s phone and the abomination of a video where Viktor attempts – for the first and hopefully last time – to figure skate. Yuri had found it hilarious. Viktor had taken a few too many bruises to his ego (and ass) to appreciate the humor of it. He’s a ballet dancer, it demands perfect balance! So how can he be so useless on the ice? It doesn’t make sense!

“If nothing else, I’m sure Yuuri will make it his personal mission to teach you if he watches this!”

“I’d rather stick with ballet,” Viktor mutters, but he can’t deny that the thought of clinging to Yuuri on the ice might be nice.

Still, you can be a lot closer while dancing. And there’s the added benefit that you don’t need to worry about falling on your ass.

“Anyway,” Phichit says, shrugging his sports bag higher on his shoulder. “I was heading back to the hotel for a shower, and then some food and sightseeing. Want to join me until Yuuri is released? You can dump your stuff in his hotel room, I have a key.”

“You don’t have any interviews to do?”

Phichit lets out a laugh, starting to push them towards the entrance.

“Nah, I’m not a superstar like him. Besides, he’s on his home turf, all his sponsors are here. I imagine they’ll all be begging him to go out for dinner.”

“I see.”

Viktor would never ask Yuuri to skip important meetings, despite how badly he wants to see him. Yuuri had been just as in demand after Worlds last spring, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Still, there’s a lump in his throat at the thought that he might not see Yuuri until morning.

“Oh but you can join me for sightseeing if you want! Guang-Hong is coming too, he wants to check some old battlefield but there’s also lots of shrines and museums. Or shopping!”

He can see the excitement shining in Yuri’s eyes, and while walking around for several hours is far down Viktor’s list of things he wants to do, it’s obvious what his answer has to be.

“Do you want to go sightseeing, Yura?”

“Yes!”

“Alright then.” He smiles at Phichit, still amazed that Yuuri’s best friend goes out of his way so much to be friends with them. It gives him hope. “If you don’t mind.”

“Don’t worry about it, Viktor. This is all part of my plan to increase my instagram followers. I‘m just using you for likes.”

“He’s upset because I have more followers than him,” Yuri whispers, hiding behind Viktor this time when Phichit pretends to be upset.

Viktor doesn’t want this weekend to ever end.

♡♡♡

Yuuri is so ready for this to end. All the TV companies are starting to blur together, and he’s downed two large sports drinks in one hour and still doesn’t feel energized. He knows that once the interviews end, there are sponsors waiting for him.

He’s lucky that Celestino offered complete managing of sponsors when Yuuri received a small sponsorship to train in Detroit. He hates having to say no, or discuss commercials and advertising and sponsor logos on his JSF tracksuits. He’s just happy that he can still use his Olympics jacket, because it’s the item in his closet that he’s most proud of. Truthfully, he’s thankful that he doesn’t need to hire someone additional to manage sponsors for him. It’s bad enough he needs an accountant.

“Alright, Yuuri, how are you holding up?” Celestino asks when finally it seems he’s through with interviews.

This must be punishment for avoiding everything yesterday.

“I’m okay,” he shrugs, internally screaming.

He sends a longing thought to Phichit and the others, off sightseeing while he’s suffering.

“Go freshen up a bit before we head up to talk with your sponsors.”

Celestino pats his back, giving him an encouraging grin. All Yuuri manages is a weak smile. He knows he should be more enthusiastic about his sponsors, but he can’t shake off the feeling that every time they meet him they’re a little disappointed. He usually only has to deal with them at Nationals and bigger events, but of course since it’s the NHK Trophy they’re present. At least he won’t be the only skater forced to mingle with them, since there are a couple more Japanese skaters from the other disciplines here as well.

At least he can get out of his costume, and take a quick shower in the locker room before slipping into his dark blue JSF tracksuit. It only smells a tiny bit of sweat.

Yamada finds him first as he enters the VIP lounge, wishing him happy birthday, telling him he already sent a pack of kitchen utensils to Detroit as a present. At this rate, Yuuri thinks he might be able to start up his own kitchenware store.

It’s a relief that the TV ad isn’t mentioned because Yuuri isn’t sure he could handle the thought of Viktor in a kitchen right now. He just. Can’t.

“Ah! It’s Katsun!”

Yuuri recognizes the voice, belonging to Kitaguchi Ai. They’ve met several times since she’s been in seniors almost as long as he has, and she’s embarrassingly invested in her not-really-secret nickname for him. He still smiles at her, discreetly nodding at Yamada with a desperate look. She whispers something to the two girls with her, giggling a little before they come over.

“Katsuki-kun, there you are! We didn’t have time to talk earlier.”

To his great relief, Yamada excuses himself and promises Yuuri that they’ll catch up properly at Nationals.

“Thanks for saving me, Kitaguchi-san,” he sighs, but she pouts and hip-checks him.

“I told you it’s Ai, remember?”

“Oh. Yes, sorry, Ai-san.”

She rolls her eyes, nudging the closest of the other two girls.

“Told you he’s too polite! Ah, Katsun, this is Takeuchi Akari and Aoyama Ikemi. Akari-chan is a pair skater debuting in the Grand Prix, and Ikemi-chan just moved up from Juniors!”

“It’s nice to meet you. Sorry I didn’t have time to watch you skate yet.”

Both of them blush, shaking their heads insistently. He has a feeling he said something embarrassing again because Ai’s grin is a little too wide.

“They’re both huge fans of yours! You don’t mind signing something, right?”

Yuuri forces down his surprise, wondering if he’ll ever get used to this. He made the mistake at Nationals last year of agreeing to watch the men’s junior skaters to give them a boost or something, and there was this kid with crazy hair who got second place and wouldn’t stop crying once he realized Yuuri had seen his free skate.

At least the girls aren’t crying, just animatedly talking about his performance once Ai gets them started. Ai also produces a marker for Yuuri so that he can sign the notebooks they both carry with them. He makes sure to write a good luck message with his signature, and then Akari’s partner comes up, introducing himself as Hayakawa Kenta, and suddenly there’s an impromptu photo shoot and someone from the JSF rushes off to immediately print the pictures.

“This is really good publicity for the new skaters,” Ai whispers to him once the hype dies down a little. “Also, both of them cried a little when they realized you’re not single anymore.”

Yuuri chokes, but Ai merely smiles and doesn’t ask any questions. It reminds him of why he’s talked more with her than most other Japanese skaters – she never pries, and always takes care of keeping the conversation flowing. It’s true that he tends to be too polite, too stiff. It’s just that being around other Japanese skaters reminds him of how he’s only there because of luck. Even the JSF didn’t care much for him until he ended up with a silver medal at Junior Worlds when he was already seventeen, only allowed to represent Japan because another skater got injured.

(A thirteen-year-old. He’d been a replacement for a thirteen-year-old. Still, it’s one of the medals he’s most proud of, because he won it without any professional coaches or expensive summer camps or sponsorships, with Yuuko’s mom and Minako crying the whole time in the kiss and cry and Yuuko throwing a huge party once they came back. He still feels guilty taking over the rightful spot of Ice Castle Hasetsu’s Madonna, but Yuuko never lets him apologize.)

When he’s granted a moment to himself he texts Phichit, checking up on him and the two Russians. He still doesn’t know how to accept the reality that they’re coming with him to Hasetsu.

 

17:36

Don’t worry, we’re having lots of fun!!

17:38

What about a hotel room and stuff?

17:39

Oh we dumped their things in your room

Figured we can share again!

17:45

Why would you do this to me

17:45

;;;;;;;;)

 

Yuuri considers rooming with Chris. Even better, dumping Phichit’s body in the river and giving it to Viktor and Yuri.

 

17:46

How long are you stuck mingling?

17:46

Not sure

I’m starving, only finger food here

17:50

I’m sure you can eat Viktor later

*with

 

Yuuri does not answer. He definitely does not think about it. He most certainly does not fret over all the embarrassing things Phichit might be telling Viktor, right now.

When the JSF official returns with a bunch of printed photos and asks the skaters to sign them, Yuuri moves on autopilot. He writes signatures and smiles at sponsors and chats with Celestino and other coaches and refuses to check his phone. Eventually Celestino must notice how absolutely exhausted he is because after a final round of goodnights to his sponsors they head back to the hotel, Yuuri’s body protesting at the short walk and his mind incessantly buzzing with attempts at ignoring Phichit’s messages.

It’s only when he collapses in bed, hotel room empty save for the luggage of two additional people, that he dares check his phone again.

 

18:45

Heading back soon!

We’ll bring take-out so let me know what you want

 

It’s already past seven, and Yuuri supposes that Phichit knows him well enough to pick something he can eat. His eyes are just _really_ heavy…

♡♡♡

“Viktor,” Phichit says as they reach one of the shrines in the online guide they’d found, the last stop on their trip. “I just want you to know something about Yuuri.”

Pausing, Viktor nervously pushes his hands into his pockets, half an eye on Yuri as he and Guang-Hong rush towards the main shrine.

“Well, you know how modest he is, and sometimes he has this idea that he doesn’t deserve things.”

“What? He deserves everything!”

Phichit laughs a little, pushing his winter hat further down his ears.

“I know. _You_ know. But sometimes he just needs to be told in very explicit terms that he does.”

Blinking at him, Viktor wonders if Phichit is trying to tell him that he needs to confess his feelings to Yuuri. It’s not really that subtle. He thinks of Yuuri’s text message, a very neutral ‘ _Yes, I’m looking forward to it’_.  He thinks of Yuuri leaning against him at the bar, so soft and pliant in his arms.

If anything, Viktor is the one who doesn’t deserve him.

“Thanks, for telling me.”

“No problem.” Phichit waves his hand, as if it were a small matter indeed. “Let’s make sure those two don’t take any selfies without us.”

As he follows Phichit, he thinks of Yuuri in his swan costume, wiping tears off his face because the audience sang for him.

Viktor might not be sure about the future, but he is sure about this – whatever Yuuri wants, Viktor is willing to give.

Eager, even.

(Maybe slightly desperate, too, but just a little bit.)

“By the way,” Phichit says when they’re all looking at omikuji, “I solved the hotel room problem.”

“Oh really?”

Viktor almost takes a step back at the smug grin on Phichit’s face.

“You know, it’s just one night, and we pretty much shared last night anyway, so…”

Oh god.

“Yuri, you don’t mind staying in my room again tonight, do you?”

Yuri frowns, on his tip toes to try and read the English sign describing the different types of fortunes you can buy.

“Where will dad stay?”

Oh _god_.

“He’ll stay with Yuuri again.”

Yuri’s head snaps towards him, eyes narrowed and lungs filling with air.

Make that ‘oh god’ an ‘oh _fuck’_.

“No!”

He’s loud enough that heads turn, and Viktor groans before trying to dissolve the situation.

“It’s just for sleeping, there’s only two beds in each room-“

“No no _no!_ It’s my turn to have a sleepover with Yuuri!”

Phichit’s laughing into his sleeve, while Guang-Hong appears a tad scandalized.

“It’s not fair if you do it two times without me!”

“Maybe you can both stay with Yuuri?” Phichit suggests, ignoring the dark look Viktor sends his way.

Yuri hums, contemplating it. Then he crosses his arms with a huff.

“I guess. And I want that one.”

He points to one of the omikuji, and Viktor sighs in defeat, buying one each for them.

When Viktor unfolds his own slip of paper and sees the words _small curse_ , he almost begins to cry.

♡♡♡

 

_[video]_

Yuri Katsuki carried by his boyfriend<3

FigureSkatingRocks

123,021 views

 

_[video]_

Top Ten super cute moments Yuri Katsuki! 2014-15 season~

skate4yuri

348,302 views

 

_[video]_

Yuri Katsuki “The Swan” EX NHK Trophy 2015 Nagano

FigureSkatingChannel

48,986 views

 **Epic on ice** _omggg I wish I was there, I want to sing for Yuuri too!_

 **Knifeshoes44** _I saw an EX so beautiful I started crying???_

 **LillyLavender** _How can he be so beautiful but also so cute and dorky like how does he do it! Share your secret Yuuri!_

 **Skaterzfan936** _when they started singing and he just looks around so confused and I just couldn’t stop crying HE’S TOO PURE FOR THIS WORLD_

 **Chris on a pole** _Viktor’s face at 3:28 am I right????_

_Show all 11 replies_

                             **Chris on a pole** _I NEED confirmation ok? All I want for Christmas is viktuuri_

**Knifeshoes44** _I’ve watched the video where he carries Yuuri a hundred times still crying_

 

_[video]_

Exhibition NHK Trophy 2015 backstage!

Phichit Chulanont

56,746 views

 **Skaterfan15** _I LOVE YOU PHICHIT!!!1!!!11111_

 **noflipsjustaxel** _All my favorite skaters in one video <333_

 **Show me them QUADS** _is no one gonna comment on the fact that, idk, YUURI IS LITERALLY ADMITTING THAT VIKTOR DISTRACTS HIM????_

                             **Phichit Chulanont** _I KNOW RIGHT??? Where are all the viktuuri fans?_

**Skaterfan15** _probs dead lol who cares anyway_

 **Katsuki+ice** _I would like to thank not only God, but also Jesus, for blessing me with this_

                             **Phichit Chulanont** _hey give credit where credit is DUE_

**Katsuki+ice** _But Phichit you ARE god and jesus of Yuuri footage_

**Katsuki+ice** _Also Yuuri’s back muscles absolutely KILLED me *faints*_

 

♡♡♡

When they return to the hotel they find Yuuri sound asleep, glasses still perched on his nose and phone in hand. Viktor wishes he could savor the sight forever.

“Don’t worry,” Phichit whispers to him. “I’ve got an entire folder with pictures of Yuuri asleep.”

It’s pretty much decided who will be best man at the wedding.

Once Yuuri wakes up – courtesy of a very enthusiastic Yuri – they eat their food, chatting about the sights they went to and Yuuri’s overbearing sponsors. As nice as it is, Viktor draws a sigh of relief when Phichit announces it’s time for him and Guang-Hong to catch up on some sleep.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” Phichit asks, satisfied when Yuuri nods. “Alright, don’t stay up too late kids!”

He winks at Yuuri, and Viktor doesn’t miss the pretty flush on his cheeks. It’s probably a good thing Yura insisted on staying in Yuuri’s room, because Viktor isn’t sure of what to do with himself now that they’re together again.

“Sorry about all this,” Yuuri apologizes, but Yuri throws his arms over his shoulders from behind and bounces in excitement.

“It’s going to be so much fun!” he shouts. “Yuuri, do you want to see the pictures I took today?”

“It’s bedtime, Yura,” Viktor says, already digging through their bag to find his pajamas. “It’s been a very long day.”

“Noo, you’re no fun.”

“You can show me tomorrow?” Yuuri offers, and instantly Yuri’s pout turns into glee.

“Okay!”

“Here, go change and brush your teeth.”

Yuri grabs his pajamas and rushes into the bathroom, Viktor sending Yuuri an apologetic smile.

“He’s been excited ever since I told him we’ll come with you.”

“That’s nice.” Yuuri’s smile is soft, and Viktor _feels_ soft just looking at him. “Is it okay with his school though?”

“Ah, I’ll ask them tomorrow.” Viktor shrugs, not that it seems to make Yuuri less worried about it. “Really, it’s fine. I take him on trips all the time so they’re used to sending him homework.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re sure.”

“Honestly?” Viktor walks over to sit next to Yuuri, drinking in the sight of his messy hair, the sleepy shine in his eyes. “He doesn’t like going to school. If I told him he had to go home while I spend time with his idol I have a feeling all my suits would be cut open when I returned.”

“He does seem happy about it,” Yuuri says, glancing down at his lap.

Viktor wants to kiss him, wants to reach out and brush a finger along his neck just to lift his face and see that lovely smile again.

“Ecstatic. Just like me.”

Yuuri keeps his face downturned, and Viktor scoots a little closer on the bed. He’s not entirely sure where they stand touch-wise, but he can’t help but test the waters a little. At least Yuuri doesn’t increase the distance again, even if he isn’t leaning into Viktor.

“Are you okay? It’s been a few intense days.”

Yuuri seems to take a breath before answering, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Somehow. I’ll probably feel it more in the morning.”

He bites his lips, then, shoulders tensing up. Viktor doesn’t even think before putting his own hand on top of Yuuri’s, squeezing lightly.

“I’m exhausted,” Viktor confesses, scanning the sparse décor of the room as Yuuri puts himself together again. “And I mostly just sat down and watched others…”

“Sightseeing with Phichit is kind of intense,” Yuuri points out, and when Viktor smiles at him this time he’s happy to see it mirrored, even if small. “He doesn’t like staying in one place too long unless it’s for pictures.”

Viktor laughs, because it’s definitely true. He raises a hand to brush a stray strand of dark hair from Yuuri’s face, staring into those wonderful eyes of his.

“It was really nice of him to take us with him. I fear I’m only number three in Yura’s life now.”

For a second Yuuri leans into his touch, then seems to catch himself, cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red.

“Yuuri,” he starts, pausing to wet his lips.

He doesn’t know how to say this, only knows that he wants to pull Yuuri closer, feel his breath on his mouth and his skin underneath his hands. Letting his thumb trace the curve of Yuuri’s cheekbone he glances down at his lips, swallowing down the burn in his throat. He dares to lace their fingers together over Yuuri’s thigh, braver when he hears the hitch in Yuuri’s breath.

“Zolotsye,” he tries again, Yuuri wide-eyed and perfectly still in his hold.

The door to the bathroom slams open, Yuri barreling out of it and throwing his clothes haphazardly on the bag before pulling up short at the scene.

“You can’t sit there,” he says, blank-faced.

Yuuri shoots up, hands pressed against his chest as he stammers out an apology.

“No, not you! Dad! _That’s_ your bed.” He points at the untouched bed closer to the door, glaring at Viktor.

Viktor itches to glare right back.

“Fine,” he sighs, getting up and heading back to the bag. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Of course I did!”

Yuri hops onto the bed, patting the space next to him for Yuuri to sit down again.

“Do you want to go first, or?” Viktor asks him, and Yuuri shakes his head.

“You can go first.”

When Viktor comes back out and Yuuri is still there, despite the amount of cold water he splashed on his face, it’s all he can do not to grin like a fool. On the other hand, he can’t help but feel slightly jealous at the sight of Yura all cuddled up at Yuuri’s side, showing him the photos he promised to wait with.

“Ah, you’re done?”

Once Yuuri disappears into the bathroom, a staring contest starts.

“I know what you’re doing,” Yuri whispers, though why he keeps so quiet is a mystery since he’s speaking in Russian. “You’re trying to make Yuuri like you more than me.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“You are!”

“Why would I?”

“Because!” Yuri struggles to think of a reason, eventually settling for throwing a pillow at Viktor.

“See?” Viktor throws the pillow right back. “I’m not.”

“You’re doing _something_ ,” Yuri mutters, and oh how absolutely correct he is.

“I _want_ him to like you more than me.”

Yuri blinks at him in suspicion first, then something seems to dawn on him.

“I remember! You said you’d only marry someone who likes me better than you.”

“It’s possible I said that.” Viktor tries hard to look nonchalant about the whole thing. “But no one is getting married yet.”

“But, isn’t that why we’re going to meet Yuuri’s family?”

“Is.” Viktor stares at his son, at the window, the ceiling, the floor, then back at the innocent face his son is making. “Is what now?”

“That’s what everyone’s commenting, anyway. On instagram.”

“You posted on instagram that we’re getting married.”

“No! I posted that we’re coming to Hasetsu with Yuuri! And that I get to skate at his rink and meet his family and stuff like that!”

Viktor feels faint. He doesn’t want to know what ‘stuff like that’ means or why everyone thinks it means they’re getting married.

“Give me your phone and I’ll delete the comments.”

“Nope! I want to know what they say!”

“Yuri…”

Scooting higher up on Yuuri’s bed, Yuri holds his phone close to his chest.

“I’m not a baby!”

“You’re eleven.”

“And you’re old!”

Viktor sighs, because he can just as well delete the comments from his own phone. Unless Yuri changed the password again, which means Viktor has to change it back and he really doesn’t have the strength for this right now.

“Well, ignore the comments, okay? People always like to spread rumors.”

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true,” Yuri retorts, scrunching his nose.

Viktor goes over to sit on Yuuri’s bed, leveling his son with a stern look.

“Yurochka, listen to me. Yuuri and I have not decided to get married. Okay?”

“Then why did you ask about it?”

Yes, why indeed. Because he’s dumb and hopeful?

“Just because _I_ might want to get married to _him_ doesn’t mean he wants to marry me. Or that I’ve asked him. So you can’t tell him about it, okay?”

“But if you do, he’ll coach me, right? He _has_ to.”

Yuri’s lower lip quivers, and Viktor pulls him close to wrap him into a hug.

“We’ll ask him about the coaching, alright? Even if he can’t coach you because he’s busy competing, I’m sure he’ll teach you a few things.”

Yuri curls into his lap, thumbs running up and down his darkened phone screen.

“Do you think he’ll have time now? I want to skate with him…”

“I’m sure he’ll-“

Yuri shoots out of his lap, hands coming up to his head as he stares at Viktor in horror.

“My skates! I don’t have my skates! I can’t skate with him!”

“Yura-“

“No no no no _no!_ ” he wails, slumping into a heap on the floor. “I’m going to _die_. This can’t be happening to me.”

“I’m sure you can borrow some skates,” Viktor tries to placate him with.

“No, papa you don’t _understand!_ I _need_ my own skates!”

Yuuri must have been alerted by the loud wails, because he opens the door and peeks out of the bathroom.

Shirtless.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, and well, maybe the fact that Yuuri still wears his pants.

Viktor coughs, but Yuri rolls onto his stomach and looks up at Yuuri with what Viktor guesses to be his best puppy eyes.

“I want to skate with you but I don’t have my skates with me.”

“Oh.” Yuuri sends an uncertain look towards Viktor, who shrugs. “Maybe you’ll fit into a pair of my old skates, I think mom still keeps them somewhere. Or you can borrow from the rink and at least be on the ice with me.”

When Yuri is silent for several seconds, Yuuri looks increasingly nervous.

“If you want?” he adds, and that’s when Yuri shoots up off the floor, latching onto Yuuri’s waist and clinging to him.

“I love you,” he says in awe, and Viktor kind of… melts.

“Okay, um,” Yuuri stutters out the words, face bright red and hands half raised, as if he isn’t sure what to do with the display of affection.

Viktor isn’t sure he’ll ever recover from this sight, heart hammering against his ribs at the wave of _want_ washing over him. If only it were like Yuri said, that they were heading to Hasetsu so Yuuri could officially introduce them to his family before their marriage.

 

“Ah, Yura, you forgot something!”

Yuri gives him a questioning look, still clinging to Yuuri, but when Viktor nods towards his messenger bag it seems he gets it.

“The present!” he gasps, and runs over to dig through the bag.

“Present?” Yuuri asks, and he looks so adorable that Viktor just wants to squish him in his arms.

“It’s your birthday today, of course we got you a present!”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s blushing, ducking inside the bathroom to fish out a comfy t-shirt and shrug it on.

“Here!” Yuri triumphantly holds up the wrapped box, turning around to hold it out for Yuuri. “Happy birthday!”

“You didn’t have to,” Yuuri mumbles, but he goes to sit on the bed and carefully unties the bow.

“Dad and I made them together,” Yuri tells him eagerly, before the wrapping paper is even off. “But mine is much prettier.”

Yuuri sends Viktor a look, but he merely smiles. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that. He can’t help a slight nervous flutter in his chest though, because when they prepared the gift they certainly didn’t imagine things ending up like this.

“Tea cups?” Yuuri holds one of the cups in his hand, eyes scanning the crudely drawn figures on the white porcelain.

“I drew you in my favorite costumes!” Yuri declares proudly, pointing at the different outfits displayed on the cup.

“Wow,” Yuuri breathes, then smiles so bright it almost hurts to look at. “This is so pretty, thank you!”

“Check dad’s too!”

Yuuri dutifully unwraps the other cup, and Viktor bites his lips in slight embarrassment. He’s certainly no artist, but he thinks he did an alright job of depicting skates and snowflakes.

“It’s lovely,” Yuuri says, holding both cups with the utmost care. “I love them.”

Grinning happily, Yuri again launches into a discussion of Yuuri’s costumes, until Viktor manages to convince him it really is bedtime and they have all day tomorrow to talk.

The whole time he smiles so hard it almost hurts, not even bothering to hide it as they finish getting ready for bed. Yuri makes a big show about sleeping next to Yuuri, and Viktor plays appropriately jealous, much to Yuuri’s embarrassment. He can’t help but cling to the thought of this somehow becoming normalcy, that they can be part of Yuuri’s family one day and Yuuri can be part of theirs.

Despite all the excitement, Viktor drifts off to sleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

♡♡♡

“Viktor?”

Next to him, Yuri is fast asleep, shifting slightly. When there’s no reply from the other side of the room, Yuuri takes a deep breath and tries to sleep as well.

It’s hard, because his thoughts keep racing, back to the moment they sat on his bed and he thought for sure that Viktor would kiss him.

He wants to apologize for last night, wants to thank him for today. Wants to explain how much this means to him, despite the fear seizing his lungs at the thought of confessing how awful he’d felt about the competition before Viktor gave him the new choreography.

He wants to do all this and _more_ , but Viktor’s breaths are even and there’s no movement to be heard.

Turning to lie on his back, he blinks up at the dark ceiling, wondering if he’ll survive Viktor’s company for two more weeks. What is he even supposed to tell his parents? _Ah yes, this is Viktor, my new choreographer that I definitely haven’t nurtured a crush on for several years and now everyone thinks we’re dating but we’re sadly not so please don’t make me suffer more than I already am_.

Yeah, that’s going to end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then! Yuuri kind of forgot, kind of didn't? And now he has to bring home his future husband to Hasetsu? Such drama!
> 
> Will Viktor end up proposing? Will Yurio get adopted by Yuuko? Or will Yuuri run off into the ocean to avoid all the embarrassment? Who knows!
> 
> Katsun - a wordplay on "katsu", which means "to win", the first kanji in Katsuki. (But it also means "cutlet" if you write it in katakana hahahaha)
> 
> I'm curious to know if anyone expected the trip to Hasetsu? I thought I'd spring a little surprise on you so they don't have to separate just yet (*´艸`*) 
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to everyone reading and commenting!! It really makes my day to know you enjoy this story<333


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blast from the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is 100% backstory... I wasn't planning on writing it but it wouldn't leave me alone. Think of it as an extra treat for those of you who want to read about baby Viktor and Yuuri.
> 
> The whole story of Viktor and Yurio will come later, I was planning on adding that here as well but in the end I decided it deserves a chapter of its own. But next chapter we'll be back to the plot and go to Hasetsu!
> 
> Three days from now I'll get on a plane to Sapporo, Japan, to visit Nora (for the second time). Exciting! I'm going to buy all the merch I can lol. I'll have a whole month to stock up so... (●♡∀♡) 
> 
> Small notes about the chapter:  
> -Idk how widely used the term "au pair" is but it's the same thing as a nanny  
> -Remember that Yuuri's birthday is late November, so for example he'll be 13 the whole year leading up to Nationals and turn 14 shortly before the competition itself.  
> -Since it's canon that Viktor is terrible with cooperation... well. He's going to find his life and love later on when he's a bit older so forgive him for being like he is as a teenager lol.  
> -I changed a small detail about Olesya from the first chapter, so she wasn't just a random dancer but someone Viktor worked with.  
> -Yuuri's situation isn't exactly my headcanon but I tried to come up with something plausible haha.   
> -The Vaganova Academy is a real school connected to the Mariinsky ballet, and children can audition at the age of 11
> 
> Not the most exciting chapter but I hope you'll find it interesting!! Thank you as always for all the kudos and your lovely comments<333

Viktor doesn’t remember why or when he fell in love with ballet. Perhaps it’s just as well – there doesn’t need to be a specific reason to it. His parents wanted him to do many things as a child; ballet was only one of them. He would get picked up from pre-school by his French au pair (a new one every year, but always French) and she would take him to his violin lesson, then ballet, and then home.

His father wanted him to be cultured and well-read, and often gave him books to read which he then expected a short discussion on. His mother brought him to operas, theatre plays, to concerts with classical music. On his birthdays and for Christmas they would attend the Mariinsky ballet, and Viktor fell a little more in awe each time with the beauty and lightness of the dancers.

He was a well-behaved child, dutifully accompanying his parents to dinners and cocktail parties, fundraisers and premieres. At school Viktor paid attention, but only because he knew he had to. Every break he begged his teachers to allow him to stay inside, practicing his dancing in the corridors. If he couldn’t stay inside he would practice in the schoolyard, mindless of the weather.

The older he became, the less satisfying only five lessons a week were. He danced before breakfast, danced when his au pair wasn’t looking, learnt how to do his homework quickly so that he could dance just a little more. He would read faster and pretend he still had chapters left, shutting himself inside his room to play his cassettes with music from the Swan lake, from Coppelia, from the Nutcracker. He would close his eyes and pretend, making up his own choreography where his memory failed him.    

In these moments, Viktor felt the most like himself. He could be good the rest of the time, as long as he could dance.

Every summer, Viktor went with his mother to Paris. She was in love with the city, with the food and the culture and the language itself. Viktor loved summers because he could spend each day in a ballet studio, taking private lessons and often begging to stay behind and practice on his own whenever there was an empty window in the schedule for any of the practice rooms. His mother indulged him, not minding the free time to roam the city. She was a whirlwind of activity, always inviting friends or attending an art exhibition or joining a party. For Viktor, it only meant more time dancing.

When Viktor was eight, he asked if he could drop his violin lessons. It was common knowledge anyway that five hours a week plus a little practice wouldn’t make a prodigy out of him, and if his parents gaped as he presented this reasoning he didn’t pay it any mind. To him it was a necessary evil that distracted from ballet. He couldn’t do anything about the dinners or the reading or going to school, but he _could_ skip music and double his ballet lessons.

It was around that time that his parents noticed his interest for what it was – passion.

Unfortunately he still had to continue with the violin, but his parents did enroll him in a school for children who were – somewhat – prodigies. It was a compromise of sorts, to bribe Viktor into pursuing both paths, at least. While he didn’t hate playing, he still viewed it as an unfortunate distraction. His mother had played it when she was young, and his father thought it more respectable than dancing. Viktor soon discovered that if he didn’t mention ballet much, they didn’t bother to check how many extra lessons he attended at school.

Shortly before his tenth birthday, Viktor participated in his first performance. Sure, there had been small recitals for parents before, but this time he was on a _real_ stage, in a real costume, a real orchestra playing for them.

Viktor couldn’t remember when he fell in love with ballet, but he remembers falling in love with the stage.

He danced a short solo piece from Sleeping Beauty, much simplified of course, but Viktor felt like a true premier danseur. He finished the solo with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, for once in his life being the absolute center of attention. He didn’t need anything other than this.

When Viktor was ten and a half, he met Lilia Baranovskaya. She was a guest teacher at the ballet school in Paris he had attended every summer since the age of four, and he remembered her from his sacred book – a book depicting famous ballets and ballerinas through history. Viktor _knew_ in his heart that he needed to join her class.

Learning that Lilia taught the children’s advanced class for ages 12 to 15 was Viktor’s first heartbreak. Did he go home and cry? No, he cried right there, in the office of the Director. The Director understandably had no time for crying children and sent him on his way, muttering about enthusiasm taken too far and how Viktor would reach that level soon enough, no need to cry about it.

Viktor quickly stopped when he turned the corner in the corridor and came face to face with Lilia herself. She would often remind him of this meeting later, much to his embarrassment. (“A snot-nosed little sparrow with tear streaks all over his cheeks, demanding to join my class. I should have known how much trouble you would be!”)

In the end, after much begging and puppy eyes and sneaking in anyway, Viktor was allowed to watch Lilia’s class whenever it didn’t clash with his own. Each day he was picked up by Solène, a very sweet girl who taught him how to properly do his hair in buns and patiently listened to him prattle on and on about ballet class. She would make him treats in secret, and bought him books about ballet in French, valiantly trying to teach him what all the words meant.

Solène had kept him company for three summers in a row, the longest he ever kept the same au pair, when his mother decided that Paris had lost its allure.

Viktor was eleven and a half, and his mother seemed intent on travelling all of Europe in one summer. Viktor came with her to Finland, Germany, and Portugal, all in a week’s time.

“Mama, why are we in such a hurry?” he asked, because the plane rides where seriously interfering with his ballet practice.

“I want to see the world!” she told him, smiling as lovely as ever. “Don’t you?”

“No,” he said. “I want to dance ballet.”

“Well, Vitya, you can dance some other time. Let’s have some fun instead!”

The next morning, Viktor snuck down to the hotel’s guest phones, foreign coins in hand. His little heart beat hard in his chest as the signals went through, rapid Russian leaving him in a tumble of words.

Viktor had been allowed to participate in Lilia’s classes by the end of last summer, and she had told him that he should join her class in St. Petersburg the following year, if he wanted. His mother had said no, regardless of how much he begged, and took him on their current trip instead. He’d asked his mother to go visit her at the Bolshoi ballet in Moscow during winter, and though it seemed his mother and Lilia didn’t get along too well she had at least relented in this aspect. (Later he would find out it was due to Lilia offering Viktor a spot at the Vaganova Academy in St. Petersburg, and that he could have started a whole year earlier than he did.)

It was a lot easier said than done to convince his mother to put him on a plane to Moscow, all alone, to attend Lilia’s summer classes.

Maybe that was the point he started drifting away from his parents, maybe it wasn’t, but Viktor drowned himself in dance and refused to think about anything else.

In retrospect he knows his parents simply wanted him to learn more in life than ballet, but Viktor was suddenly stubborn where he’d formerly been complacent, arguing where he’d been agreeable, outspoken where he’d been dedicating himself in secret.

“Oh, if only my darling Vitenka had never learnt of ballet!” his mother sighed in the kitchen the night before he became a student at the Vaganova Academy, at age twelve and a half.

“If only you had let me start _earlier_ ,” Viktor hissed back, because dinner was tense and his father was pointedly trying to ignore that from tomorrow on his son would start working towards becoming a professional ballet dancer.

Since Lilia was taking over as Director of the Mariinsky ballet come fall she’d been able to convince his parents to let him join the Vaganova, despite him being a year later than the other kids. That is to say, they were both hoping he would tire of ballet soon enough, and that was the only reason they relented. Little Vitenka was meant for greater things, after all. Ballet was only a distraction on the way there.

His father came from a generation of successful business men, handsome and dependable with a great sense for money. His mother was born rich, surrounded by glamour every day but with an ingrained longing for warmer weather than Russia. Both of them were deeply concerned over twelve-year-old Viktor’s long hair and elegant flicks of the wrist, the little bounce in his step as he hummed tunes to himself and how he practiced turn-outs even while he brushed his teeth.

They tried to have him make friends with other children at the social events they still brought him to, but Viktor was too used to sitting in a corner with one of his books to break the habit now. They tried to suggest other activities for him to try, like painting or learning languages or to please not drop his violin lessons. But Viktor knew now what it was like to stand on stage and receive applause after a successful show, knew what it felt like to soar through the air in a grand jeté, and while he still read his books and did his homework his soul always ached for that moment he could dance again. Besides, he was now learning the piano and studying French and English at school, surely that was enough.

The spring after Viktor turned fourteen, his father was appointed as a diplomat and sent to New Delhi. Naturally, Viktor refused to come with. He was working towards his dream, and while it was a harsh road he saw no other path. He was a dancer, thank you very much, and to his mother’s chagrin he moved in with Lilia and her husband since she worried too much to let him live in the dorms.

Viktor still tried his best to be good for his parents. He still read his books, reporting on his progress and thoughts to his father during their weekly calls. He still listened with interest to his mother retelling her adventures in India, and of other trips she did with her friends. They always came back for his birthday, and sometimes when his father made official trips to report back to the government, but never for his spring performance. They were never more than polite when he told them about ballet, and Viktor knew that somewhere along the way he had surely disappointed them. His mother’s words would replay in his head on nights before performances, _Oh, if only my darling Vitenka had never learnt of ballet!_

It never made him change his mind. Instead, it made him want to be the best, to show them he had made the right choice. That when he danced, it wasn’t _only_ a selfish desire, or the whim of a child.

He was made for this.

Ballet was everything to him.

♡♡♡

When Yuuri was twelve, he had what he likes to think of as his gay awakening. He didn’t see anything gay about it at the time, considering that his first thought when he saw the man on the TV screen wasn’t _I want to be held in those strong arms and go on dates where we pair skate together_. No, those thoughts came later, but he did think of Stéphane Lambiel as very, very beautiful.

To Yuuri, the ice was always a place where he could get rid of his brain, for just a moment. Ballet made him feel beautiful, but skating made him feel at ease. The ice was also the place where he had his only friend his own age. Yuuko, Ice Castle Hasetsu’s Madonna.

She was two years his senior and always beautiful, always happy and excited and so, so strong. Yuuri wanted to be like her. He first saw Stéphane because Yuuko asked if he wanted to watch the World Championships with him, at the ice rink. Giddy at the thought of spending time with his _friend_ outside ice time, Yuuri naturally said yes. He’d never paid much attention to figure skating events, only when Yuuko told him about them. At home, the only TV they had was in the onsen’s common room, usually set to show the news or sports, and sometimes the dramas Mari liked.

At age twelve, Yuuri decided he not only wanted to be like Yuuko. He wanted to be like Stéphane, too. He wanted to move with the same grace, to jump as high, to be one with the music. He was Yuuko’s favorite, and of course he became Yuuri’s favorite as well.

Yuuri dreamt of competing after that. Yuuko already did, winning regional junior competitions and placing decently at Nationals. Her parents eagerly trained her and sent her to summer camps and to an actual coach, and Yuuri was in awe that she would take time out of her busy schedule to practice with him, too. Both Yuuko and her parents were always nice to Yuuri, letting him stay on the ice even as they drilled Yuuko.

At some point Nishigori joined as well, and though he used to tease Yuuri all the time, it was nice to have someone else there who didn’t mind correcting his jumps.

When Yuuri was thirteen, Yuuko’s mother called him over as another solo practice ended.

“Yuuri,” she said, smiling even as he shyly peeked up at her. “You really love skating, don’t you?”

He nodded, biting his lip as he wondered what she could possibly want to talk to him about. He was only Yuuko’s little fan, the kid she didn’t mind hanging around her all the time. They were friends, yes, and she even jokingly called him her little brother, but he didn’t think he warranted any attention from her mother outside the few lessons his parents could afford.

“Wouldn’t you like to compete? You’re thirteen now, and if you work hard on your jumps I think you could definitely go to Nationals.”

“Me?”

He felt breathless, hearing the question. Of course he wanted to, but it wasn’t like he could. Figure skating was expensive, and already one of the onsens in Hasetsu had needed to shut down because of the lack of costumers.

“Well, what do you think?”

Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted it so much, wanted to be like Yuuko, wanted to dance on the ice and hear the audience gasp in wonder. But, there was just no way. He couldn’t ask his parents for that much money. He knew from Yuuko how much costumes cost, and he would need more lessons and travelling and-

“Yuuri, sweetheart, don’t cry.” Fumiko gently wrapped her arms around him, patting his hair as he tried desperately not to do just that. “You don’t have to, I was just asking.”

“No, I- I want to,” he hiccupped, clinging to her. “But it’s too expensive…”

He whispered the last part, embarrassed. For his birthday, the only thing he asked for was lessons, or new skates, and Mari always complained that he got expensive things and she didn’t.

“Hmm, is that so,” Fumiko hummed, still patting his hair as he sobbed into her sweater. “I’m sure we can think of something. You’re very talented, Yuuri.”

It was something Yuuko always told him. _You’re so talented, Yuuri!_ He’d never heard it from anyone else, even if both Fumiko and Masayoshi always praised him during lessons. That was their job, after all.

Despite not daring to hope for anything, two days later Yuuko came running as he reached the rink, beaming at him.

“We figured it out! Let’s compete together, Yuuri!”

Yuuri, to this day, could still not understand how he ended up so lucky. He could join Yuuko’s practices, in exchange for Yuuko joining his ballet lessons with Minako. He would get travel expenses covered in exchange for Yuuko’s parents having unlimited access to the baths at the onsen. His mother’s friend would sew his costumes, and then it was only a question of paying for skates, which he could help finance by helping Yuuko out on the weekends when she worked at the rink.

The one thing he couldn’t do was join Yuuko when she went to Fukuoka and took lessons from a professional coach. Since the rink in Hasetsu was rather small they couldn’t afford a professional instructor, though Yuuko’s parents had skated quite a lot as a pair when they were younger, even if only on a national level. The coach would go with her to competitions, but Yuuri was honestly glad that it would be Yuuko’s mother accompanying him on his.

As much as he wanted to compete, he didn’t dare dream of reaching the international stage, not like Yuuko aimed to do. Even if she hadn’t yet reached that far at the age of fifteen, her coach was positive that it was only a matter of time.

Because of this, she moved to Fukuoka for high school. Yuuri missed her terribly, even if he was excited for her. Even though Yuuri had only joined her solo practices for a few months, her parents made them into _Yuuri_ solo practices instead.

“It will give me something to do, when Yuuko isn’t here,” Fumiko told him with a wink, as cheerful as Yuuko always was. “And besides, she wants to see you compete, too. So let’s work hard!”

Surprisingly, Yuuko turned out to not be his only friend, because Nishigori awkwardly announced that Yuuri was now obligated to join him on morning runs. It was absolute torture since Yuuri not only hated mornings with a passion, but because Nishigori was already so much bigger and faster than him. He kind of hated him a little, up until he realized it had done wonders for his stamina on the ice.

Yuuri’s first competition was in August, a qualifier to the regional qualifier for Junior Nationals. Minako had choreographed his program, and he was dressed in a very simple costume consisting of a dark blue dress shirt with a few sequins sprinkled over the shoulders, and black pants. As simple as it was, Yuuri looked at himself in the mirror with awe. He’d never felt so pretty before, but he’d also never felt so mind-numbingly nervous. He just knew he was going to go out there and freeze up, and everyone would laugh.

“Yuuri?”

Hesitating at first, he opened the door when Yuuko knocked. She’d come with him for support, just like Minako and Nishigori and even Mari, as well as Yuuko’s parents. All of them were here, only to watch him crash and burn.

“Oh Yuuri, don’t look so scared,” she said, gently hugging him so his costume wouldn’t get wrinkled. “Remember my first competition? When I stumbled on the way out and fell on my face?”

Of course he remembered, but that was _Yuuko_. She could wave it off with a laugh, and besides, her program had been amazing.

“Yuuri, let’s make a deal,” she whispered, holding his face between her hands, eyes glittering. “For every time you fall, you have to tell Nishigori that his muscles are sooo amazing and you want to be strong like him one day!”

“What?! I can’t do that!”

“Then you better not fall!” Yuuko winked at him, tugging him out of the bathroom stall.

“Nishigori doesn’t even _have_ muscles,” Yuuri muttered as she pulled him along, and Yuuko laughed, loud and free and happy, and Yuuri swallowed down his fears and told himself that he _can_ do this.

Yuuri didn’t make it to Nationals that year, but he was close, close enough that he vowed to work even harder. He forced down the thoughts that told him he wasn’t good enough, ignored his lack of friends at school, and told himself that if he just kept going, he’d prove to everyone that he wasn’t a waste of their time. Instead, fourteen-year-old Yuuri watched Yuuko take fifth place, pride blooming in his chest, dreaming that one day they would both be winning medals.

At fifteen, Yuuri made it to Nationals but flubbed each and every jump once there.

At fifteen, Yuuri had hit puberty for real and nothing felt right. He got taller and lost his balance. He barely dared to talk in class, even when the teacher forced him to. He stared at the pictures of Stéphane Lambiel in the magazine that Yuuko had lent him, wondering why his bare chest made him feel hot all over.

Spring meant a few smaller competitions, but Yuuri performed so badly that Fumiko told him he should probably take it easy for a while until he grew into his body. To Yuuri, this was the proof of his utter failure. He stopped going for runs with Nishigori, even when he tried to physically drag him out of his room. He cried on the inside every time he was at Minako’s studio and had to look at his body in the mirrors. He couldn’t do jumps, barely managed spins, and focused all his time on skating figures instead. It was the only thing that kept him sane, he felt.

He might not need to do the qualifier for Nationals that year because of somehow placing high enough the year before despite his utter failure, but even though everyone assured him it was going to be fine, Yuuri couldn’t believe them. All his dreams were crushed and he was doomed to be a chubby failure for the rest of his life.  

The only thing he kept up were his grades, because he was terrified of failing that too. He started high school in April and didn’t make any new friends. Who would want to be friends with him, anyway? He stuttered when people talked to him and had a male figure skater as his phone background, obviously they all thought he was pathetic.

When summer came around, Yuuri didn’t want to go outside. He had to go to class but he hated the summer uniform and he hated his mother’s concerned looks and he hated Mari asking if he was okay instead of teasing him. He still dragged himself to Minako’s studio but mostly at night, when he wouldn’t meet a lot of people on the streets. He still skated his figures, but only after closing time. This of course meant less practice time in general, and Yuuri could tell that he was losing all his supposed talent, if he ever had any.

One such night as he was hiding away in Minako’s studio, moving slowly to the soft music playing from the speakers, Minako stepped inside and closed the door behind her with finality.

“Yuuri,” she said, arms crossed and mouth set in a line. “Talk to me.”

If Minako hadn’t forced everything out of him that night, he’s not sure he ever would have gotten where he is today.

“What do you want, Yuuri?” she asked when he was done crying, “do you want to skate?”

“I do,” he confessed, voice raw and feeling so small in the empty space of the studio. “I really want to.”

“Then that’s precisely what you’re going to do. I’ll back you up as long as you need me to!”

 Yuuri slowly worked his way back. Or rather, worked his way forwards. When he turned sixteen, and his feet at least weren’t growing so much anymore, his parents and Minako gave him a pair of skates that must have cost more than he was worth.

“This is your year, Yuuri.”

He took their words to heart. Yuuko had done well enough in Senior Nationals to be sent abroad for the Challenger series, and while Yuuri knew that international competitions were a far-off dream for him, he wanted to take this second chance given to him and prove that he was worthy of being her friend, and of her parents’ time. Yuuri, somehow, had managed a fourth place in Juniors.

Which was why, when Yuuko graduated high school and they were all celebrating in her parents’ house, her confession that she wanted to stop competing sent him reeling.

“It just wasn’t as fun as I used to think it would be,” she told him, the both of them having snuck off into her room. “It feels kind of like a waste, going to Fukuoka and doing all that…”

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asked, wide-eyed in disbelief. “I’m sure if you continued you could win everything!”

“Mm, I’d rather come back to Hasetsu,” she said, smiling that brilliant smile of hers. “I can teach kids! And I’ll teach you all the jump techniques I learned, okay? I think I’ll leave the winning to you.”

With Yuuko back in Hasetsu, things both changed and didn’t. Yuuko drilled him endlessly, even outside the time he spent with her parents. Nishigori tripled his efforts to keep Yuuri in shape, claiming it was good practice for his unofficial personal trainer studies at the only gym in Hasetsu. Minako ran him through countless routines before she found something good enough to use on the ice, and his mother started feeding him meals better suited for an athlete. Yuuri wasn’t foolish enough to think he could succeed just because he dreamt of it, and so he worked harder than he ever had before.

He did surprisingly well in the few local competitions he entered that spring, and spent summer working tirelessly on jumps. With Ice Castle Hasetsu’s Madonna in retirement, Yuuri realized it was up to him to put their rink and skating club on the map, even if only on a national level.

Imagine his surprise when Fumiko told him he was going to Germany for the NRW Trophy at the end of November.

“There happened to be a spot open at the last minute, and since you came fourth at Nationals last year they’re offering it to you,” she said, smiling at him.

He could barely believe it. An international competition! Sure, it wasn’t the Grand Prix, but Yuuri didn’t think he could aim for that anyway. He was just in shock that he’d been considered at all.

“But, what about-“

“It’s fine!” she assured him. “It’s all covered and dealt with.”

Yuuri had never been outside Japan before, hell he hadn’t even been to Tokyo! Germany was, for lack of a better word, absolutely frightening. He was certain the plane would crash, and when it didn’t he was sure the taxi would run off the road, or maybe the hotel would explode. Maybe his skates would fall apart, as he put them on. Maybe-

In the end, Fumiko managed to distract his anxiety enough for him to survive skating. She couldn’t distract him from the other competitors, or their looks. He could tell they were all judging him, and for the first time, Yuuri realized what it meant to have a homemade costume, and a coach that wasn’t professional. Of course, he could only understand what the other Japanese contestants said, all of them in the female or pairs division, but he was pretty sure the others must think the same.

“He’s only here because they begged for it,” one girl whispered to her friend as he passed in the corridor after the short program. “There’s no way he’ll make it, I saw him cry in the bathroom at Nationals a few years ago.”

Yuuri remembered her. Yuuko had told him back then that her costume was more expensive than even a few senior skaters’, and part of him had to wonder what she was doing _here_ if she was good enough for costumes like that. Another part of him wholeheartedly agreed with her, because he’d been _so_ close to an anxiety attack before he went out for his short program. Maybe she’d seen Fumiko hug him before and after, how his hands had trembled the entire time in the kiss and cry.

And it was true, that he would probably never go any further than this. But Fumiko had told him to skate for Hasetsu and Yuuko, and he knew it was the only option. Yuuko had retired and Yuuri was the only other skater they had that could compete at this level, and even if he wasn’t any good, even if he didn’t deserve it, he needed to keep it together.

For his first and only international competition, Yuuri desperately wanted to medal.

After his slightly shaky short program and a popped combination in the free skate, Yuuri ended up in fifth place. He was so relieved that he hadn’t messed up that he cried afterwards, alone in the hotel room as Fumiko went out to buy snacks for the trip home. It wasn’t the win he wanted, and some small part of him decided that he absolutely _hated_ to lose. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t want Hasetsu to be remembered by some second rate skater who came in fifth once in Germany.

He felt greedy, and ashamed for it. Even if the competition had been covered by the JSF it must have been expensive. There was no way they’d send him again after a performance like this.

The tears turned bitter after that, but he made sure to wash them off before Fumiko returned. He would just have to skate better from now on.

When they returned, Yuuko announced she was pregnant, and that she and Nishigori would get married the following spring. (How Yuuri missed their romance he still doesn’t know, but it’s not like he paid attention to much outside of school and skating.) She apologized to him for taking attention from his competition, but Yuuri was only happy for her. In a way he was thankful for it, even, since it gave him almost a month to breathe before Nationals.

He told Fumiko he wanted to use the more difficult step sequence he’d practiced, the one they’d decided not to use so he wouldn’t need to worry about anything but his jumps. She reluctantly agreed, only because Yuuri already knew it, and Yuuri spent so much time on the ice leading up to Nationals that Mari started sending a thermos of hot water with him, just in case he got stuck to it permanently. His teachers grew concerned when he kept falling asleep at his desk. He started wondering if his feet would ever return to their normal color.

He won Junior Nationals.

At just turned seventeen, Yuuri must have seemed like he came out of nowhere. After all, only two years ago he’d crashed and burned, and no one had counted him as a contender for the podium despite being sent to Germany.

He’d barely come to terms with this impossible feat when things became complicated. Yuuri had never sent much thought to what would happen if he ended up with a medal, because it had seemed such a far off scenario that anything after that was merely a hazy what-if. He didn’t even think about the following year’s competitions, only walking around in a daze and taking out his gold medal to stare at it, wondering how it could possibly belong to him. It wasn’t until two weeks into the new year that he caught up with reality, arriving at the rink to a grim-faced Yuuko and troubled Nishigori.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between them, a sense of dread filling his chest. “Has something happened?”

“The JSF happened,” Nishigori huffed, and Yuuko hit him on the arm.

Even several months pregnant, Yuuko was as lovely and energetic as ever. Which was why, seeing her look so upset that her brown eyes seemed filled with lightning made Yuuri want to bolt and never return.

“You won Nationals, Yuuri. They should be sending you to the World Championship.”

“They should be what?”

“Yuuri,” she said, putting her arms on his shoulders, thus effectively cutting off escape. “They always send the best skaters from Nationals, unless there’s someone better who didn’t do well because of an injury at the time or they haven’t qualified at an ISU event. And right now, there’s definitely no better Junior skater than you!”

“Um, I’m sure there is,” he tried, but that made even Nishigori look like a storm cloud.

“There _isn’t_ ,” Yuuko insisted, shaking him a little. “Yuuri, you were amazing! They shouldn’t pass you up just because they didn’t care about you before.”

“If they’d watched you in Germany they would have,” Nishigori muttered, but Yuuri was starting to feel faint.

“I- I can’t go to _Worlds_ , Yuuko! Even if I was good enough, which I’m _not_ , it’s too expensive!”

“Some of it is sponsored, and the club will sponsor the rest. It’ll be amazing if Ice Castle skating club is represented!”

“But, you said they didn’t pick me?”

Again, anger flashed through Yuuko’s eyes.

“We’ll see about that,” she told him, sounding much too ominous for Yuuri’s poor nerves.

To be honest, as much as he’d dreamt of continuing to compete internationally, there was just no way he was ready for something like _Worlds_. Or good enough. Even if he was sort of working on his self-confidence, he wasn’t an idiot. Clearly him winning Nationals was a one-time thing, as fantastic as it was.

“Alright!” Yuuko clapped her hands together, startling him out of his thoughts. “Either way we’ll get you ready, just in case!”

And thus, Yuuri found himself preparing for a World Championship he wasn’t even invited to. Even though he tried, he couldn’t avoid overhearing how much Yuuko’s parents fought with the JSF officials to give him a chance. He even asked them to drop it, because surely it was more trouble than it was worth. Except, they said, it was not just about Yuuri, but a sake of pride for their skating club and rink.

He couldn’t argue with that.

The JSF wouldn’t budge, insisting that Yuuri would be sent to the Gardena Spring Trophy in Italy instead for assessment, and if he did well they _might_ consider him for the Junior Grand Prix after summer, otherwise the NRW Trophy in Germany again. Clearly they didn’t think his performance the previous year had been good enough to send him somewhere that counted. Yuuri tried really, really hard not to think about it. All of a sudden his dreams were too real, too overwhelming.

He had to do a _lot_ of breathing exercises during the weeks leading up to Worlds.

“I don’t get it!” Yuuko exclaimed, two weeks before Worlds. “You had all the required elements in your program at Nationals, your triple axel is _perfect_ , and they still don’t want to send you! I _know_ it’s because the coach of that damned third-place child is bribing them somehow!”

“Yuuko, it’s fine,” he tried, but couldn’t help agreeing a little bit with her.

When he looked at the recording of Nationals, he would silently think _I’m much better than them_. He might not deserve to go to Worlds, but like Minako kept telling him, he _did_ win. But there were only two spots, and they were given to the silver and bronze medalists. Apparently there was a bit of an uproar in media over this, and one senior skater in the Ladies singles even said in an interview that she thought it was a bit strange.

“Just because they only sent you to Germany because mom found out there was a free spot doesn’t mean they can just ignore you!”

Once the words were out she seemed to panic, throwing her hands over her mouth with a gasp.

“Oh, Yuuri, I didn’t mean it like that! You deserved to go and mom knows that. They were just too awful to actually offer it!”

“No that’s, that’s okay, Yuuko. I know I’m nothing special, so I’m just glad I could go.”

She tried to convince him otherwise, but Yuuri went home that night and took his gold medal from its place on his desk, wondering if he should just quit. He didn’t want to cause Yuuko’s parents so much trouble. The worst was knowing that the competition in Germany hadn’t been paid for by the JSF, but by Yuuko’s parents. Unlimited access to the onsen was nice and all, but there was just no way it could pay back the cost of plane tickets and a hotel room. On the other hand, if he quit now, all that effort and money they spent on him would have been for nothing. Yuuko had retired, and Yuuri was her only replacement.

He’d been given this chance at the expense of others, had taken her place for no good reason other than fumbling in her shadow, wishing he could shine as brightly as her.

A week before Worlds, ‘that third-place child’ came down with a terrible flu. They called and told Fumiko that, with much regret, they were sending Yuuri instead since he was the only other available Junior skater that was qualified to go. Regrettably, since sending him meant that he needed to place high enough combined with the silver medalist so that they could ensure two spots in the competition for next year, and they weren’t so sure he could do it.

Yuuri just wished his brain would pick a side. Half of him was terrified because he knew that even if he did well at Nationals and alright in Germany, he’d messed up before and could easily do it again. The other half was determined to win, to prove to the world and the JSF that Ice Castle Hasetsu wasn’t just a run-down rink in a small town with a dwindling population, but something worth taking notice of. That _he_ was worth taking notice of, even if just for this one competition.

The day before they left, he broke down.

It had been building up the whole week, ever since they told him he would go, the half that’s terrified. He wasn’t good enough. He didn’t belong there, and no one even _wanted_ him there. It was the same voices from two years ago all over again, except now he also felt the pressure to succeed.

The World Championship was not just any competition. He watched the previous year’s competition, knew that all the best juniors in the whole world would be there. It was just impossible to think of himself as one of them.

Minako found him in her studio, late that night, hiding in an over-sized sweater and eating a big bag of cookies that looked like bamboo shoots. He would have soaked in the onsen, but he didn’t want to be found. He couldn’t skate because Fumiko forbid him to tire himself out, and his whole body itched with the need for it. He tried dancing but he worried he really _would_ tire himself out, and then he’d fail them all.

She sat down next to him, not talking for a while. He kept munching on one cookie, just for something to do, taking tiny little bites and swallowing despite his dry throat. It tasted like chocolate and butter and regrets.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, a stark contrast from the last time she found him like this.

“I don’t know.”

“Pressure?”

He didn’t reply. How was he supposed to explain how he felt? It’s not like it made any sense.

“Do you want to pull out of the competition?”

“No!” He looked up at her, lungs constricting in his chest at the thought. “No, I can’t do that.”

“But do you _want_ to?”

He thought about it.

“I want to go, but…” He hesitated, but Minako didn’t push. “I want to go but I’m scared I’ll fail, and everyone will be disappointed.”

Minako held her hand out, waiting until he placed his own in hers.

“Listen, kiddo. You could quit skating right now and we’ll still be proud of you. I know Fumiko and the others are acting like it’s the end of the world if you don’t do well, but that’s because they’re angry that the JSF thinks you _can’t_ do well, and we all know you can.”

“I’m not so sure I can.”

Tightening her grip, Minako hummed in thought. Yuuri felt like she was dissecting him from the inside out, like just by looking at him she could see all the warring thoughts sloshing around in his brain.

“Well, personally I know you can. You have my choreography, right? And Miyamoto-san’s beautiful costumes, and your family will be waiting with katsudon for you when you get back. And, Yuuri…”

He bit his lip, drawing in a shaky breath. He knew, rationally, that he didn’t have anything to worry about, but that didn’t help much against the freezing dread that gripped him tight every time he thought about entering a stage that big.

“Yuuri, you’ve worked harder than anyone. I know you’re proud of your skating, and that _somewhere_ in that brain of yours you know you deserve this. Am I right?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice right now.

“And even if you feel like you can’t do it, you’re going to get on that plane tomorrow, aren’t you? I know how stubborn you are.”

At that he had to smile a little, squeezing her hand back. Minako was a perfectionist when it came to his routines, but Yuuri was just as bad.

“I just… don’t know how to stop thinking like this.”

He buried his face against his knees, but Minako still kept his hand firmly locked in hers so that he couldn’t hide completely. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to be like Yuuko, who could shrug things off like the easiest thing in the world. When she was nervous she started jumping around, filled with energy. For Yuuri, it was numbness in his head, stiffness in his limbs. The all-consuming knowledge that nothing he did would ever measure up, so why try?

“Talk to me, Yuuri. I’ll be there the whole time. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, feeling just a tiny bit better when he wasn’t alone.

“What do you need? Do you need to skate? I’ll come with you.”

The night before he left for his first World Championship, Yuuri skated figures into the smooth ice, cheesy pop songs blaring from Minako’s phone. After maybe an hour, Minako paused the music and called him over to the side.

“Hey,” she said, leaning her cheek in one hand against the barrier. “Why do you want to go, anyway? There has to be a reason besides being told to go.”

He stared at her for a moment, then turned to gaze around the rink.

“I…”

Licking his lips, he thought of all the memories he’d made in there, all the times he’d fallen, all the times he’d cried. But also all the times he’d laughed, had copied Stéphane’s step sequences with Yuuko, and groaned as she forced him through yet another exercise.

“I want to put Hasetsu on the map,” he said, glancing back at her. “I can’t be Ice Castle’s Madonna, but maybe… Maybe I can show the world that this is still the best place, with the best people.”

Minako’s answering grin was wide and toothy, and she jumped into the air with a little spin.

“That’s the spirit, Yuuri! And damn right, it is!”

When it was Yuuri’s turn to skate, he thought of Hasetsu, and all the people who worked together to bring him to Sofia, Bulgaria. His costumes were no longer second rate, but made with all the love of his home town. His programs were no longer amateur, but choreographed by a former world-famous ballerina. His coaches weren’t just the owners of an unknown little skating rink in the middle of nowhere, but the parents of his best friend who believed in him, more than he believed in himself.

He told himself this before he went out onto the ice, forcing himself into a calmer headspace, forcing the intrusive thoughts to lessen just a bit, just enough for him to skate.

He wanted to prove to the world that Ice Castle Hasetsu had given birth to something beautiful, to programs filled with feeling, ingrained with all the music of the seagulls and the ocean, the quiet steam of hot springs, the secrets of the ninja house.

Taking silver was a bonus. He’d never felt so powerful, going out third to last, taking in the deafening applause after slipping into his ending pose. He’d never felt so proud, with reporters asking him for a comment – even though Minako had to translate for him.

“What are your plans for the future?” they asked him, and once Minako had translated for him, he tilted his head to the side, using what little English he felt comfortable with.

“Maybe win?”

(It becomes a meme, after he wins the next year. Upon meeting him, Phichit takes one look and declares them best friends. “Yuuri, I have a list of my favorite internet figure skating jokes and you’re in half of them!”)

The spring after he’d turned eighteen he moved to Detroit. It was simultaneously the best and worst decision of his life, because Celestino gave him the boost he needed for his jumps, but he had no idea what to do with Yuuri when he broke down shortly after winning gold at Junior Worlds. He’d powered through the competition somehow, frantically calling Minako and Yuuko during breaks. But after, when it hit him, _really_ hit him, that he’d moved to America to try and actually do this, that he was expected to move up into Seniors as soon as possible…

Celestino sent him to a therapist and a mental trainer.

He won Junior Nationals for the third time in a row, and placed third at Senior Nationals.

At age nineteen, a year after Stéphane Lambiel had retired (which was probably just as good since there was no way Yuuri could have concentrated with him nearby, anyway), Yuuri was sent as Japan’s representative to the Four Continents for his international Senior debut.

With no quads under his belt yet, he placed thirteenth.

His new goal? Three quads, for the three little girls he was an uncle to.

(But maybe not the axel. Yet.)

♡♡♡

At eighteen, Viktor felt like he had to world at his fingertips. He won competitions across the world, and already had job offers from several respectful ballet companies. He did, however, feel like he was growing out of St. Petersburg.

“Maybe I should go to France,” he told Olesya, his current pas de deux partner at the Mariinsky. “At least there no one knows my dad.”

They were only background dancers, but Viktor knew that it was only a matter of time before he could play only the main roles instead. He’d done a few already, for school productions, but sadly main roles at the Mariinsky weren’t given to students even during summer.

“You should be lucky people even notice you after performances,” she snapped back at him from where she stretched on the floor.

“Well, if you had a little more _aplomb_ you might get noticed, too.”

Viktor didn’t necessarily dislike her, but ever since that drunk-night-they-do-not-speak-of she’d been nothing but snappish with him. It was like she’d forgotten that there were other ways to form words.

“Oh, shut it with your French,” she groaned, grabbing a bottle of water and mimicking throwing it at him. “I can’t wait to get rid of you once this production is over.”

“Wow. And I didn’t even do anything.”

She sent him a murderous glare, then ignored him. Viktor shrugged, not taking it personally. He wasn’t the best at making friends, but Olesya had wanted to be a little more than just friends. He supposed he should have told her he wasn’t interested _before_ they slept with each other, but oh well.

Viktor drank so rarely that he didn’t know his limits, and the other dancers sure had poured a lot into him. He should probably get some kind of prize for getting it up at all, considering he couldn’t even walk straight the whole way back to her dorm room.

Maybe she was just annoyed at him because he was younger and prettier. Even though she’d been hired full time by the Mariinsky, she had yet to stand out much. Viktor had a feeling they were paired up because he tended to overshadow his partner, and if he was with someone less inclined to fight for attention there would be less, well, fights.

It was certainly his biggest flaw, the lack of cooperation off-stage. He didn’t see the problem – as long as they performed well, he didn’t need to go along with whatever the others wanted. He listened to Lilia and his teachers as much as he had to, but everyone knew he worked on his own things whenever he could.

It was just easier, to dance on his own.

As the weeks passed and the new semester drew near, Viktor didn’t have much time to think about anything but practice, practice, and evening performances. He only had one year left after this, and he wanted to be one hundred percent sure he could become something better than a background dancer, even if it _was_ the Mariinsky and Lilia would skin him alive for suggesting it wasn’t good enough.

On a Tuesday morning, two days before classes started again, Olesya threw open the door to the small studio he practiced in.

“Hello?” he said, one eyebrow raised at her livid face.

He hadn’t seen her for a week or so, ever since she got a new partner so that Viktor could have a small break before school started, more demanding than ever. You’d think she’d be happy about that, not stalk slowly up to him with actual murder in her eyes.

“ _Hello_?” she repeated back at him, sneering. “That’s all you can say?”

“I…” he glanced at the door she’d shut behind her, wondering if he should attempt to escape. “I’m not sure what you want me to say?”

Honestly, she should be using this kind of fearsome presence on stage instead, closing up on him with all the grace and glory she’d lacked the past few months. When she reached out to grab a fistful of his loose work-out shirt, Viktor started feeling worried.

“You could say Olesya, I am a sorry excuse of a man and I don’t deserve my luck in life.”

“Now why would I-“

She slapped him. Hard, even. Viktor worked is jaw, frowning at the floor.

“Assuming I deserved _that_ ,” he started, carefully removing her hand from his shirt, “I still don’t know _why_.”

To his surprise, she didn’t slap him again. Instead she let out a sob, sinking to the floor and burying her fingers in her long, blonde hair.

“I hate you,” she cried, “I really, really hate you.”

At a complete loss, Viktor stared down at her slumped form. Sure, she didn’t like him once he’d rejected her, and sure he could probably have been more polite about it? But to be fair he’d been extremely hungover and not in the mood for her throwing things at him. They’d still survived a month and a half together after it happened.

“I’m… sorry?”

He winced as she sent him a dirty look through her hair, and only now did he notice that her usually impeccable appearance had been downgraded to sweats.

“You _should_ be sorry,” she hissed, and Viktor thought longingly of his cozy bed back in Lilia’s house where she probably wouldn’t have been able to find him. “You ruined my life! You got me _pregnant_!”

Viktor stared down at her, feeling as if the floor tilted until he had to crouch down in front of her.

“I’m pretty sure it takes two people to get pregnant,” he said.

It earned him another slap, and yeah okay, he might want to slap people if he got pregnant, too.

“I’m just saying,” he sighed, backing up a little so she couldn’t reach him as easily, rubbing his poor cheeks. “We went to _your_ dorm room.”

“And _you_ could have brought a condom,” she muttered, and Viktor had to fight hard not to roll his eyes.

“Oh yes, because I was definitely planning on sleeping with someone.”

“And yet you did.” Her tone was frosty, eyes still boring into him like sharpened knives. “Even if you apparently don’t see me like that.”

“It was dumb yes,” he agreed, huffing when she somehow managed to look even angrier. “But it was a mutual decision? Yes? Besides, aren’t there pills for that sort of thing.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Fine!” Exasperated, Viktor threw his hands out, trying to ignore the slightly hysterical tone of his voice. “What do you want me to do about it?”

She looked at him for a moment, assessing him. Viktor couldn’t help the cold shiver running down his spine, because it was starting to dawn on him what _being pregnant_ meant.

“I pity any child with you as their father,” she eventually told him, standing up to dry the tears from her face. “Better not to have a father at all.”

It wasn’t until she’d left that Viktor’s brain caught up with the words.

“Wait!” he called after her, running to the door and leaning out. “Are you saying you’re _keeping_ it?!”

“I’m saying I never want to see or talk to you ever again!” she screamed back, and Viktor hoped no one else was around to hear them yelling.

“Great!” Heart hammering in his chest, Viktor gripped the doorjamb until his knuckles hurt. “Because if you’re keeping it, I want nothing to do with it!”

She swore at him, and Viktor retreated into the practice room. He spent a long time just sitting there, staring into nothing. Then he looked to the barre and thought, _no, I can’t let this shake up my dancing._

On Thursday evening, Viktor sat on the couch and tried to pay attention to the TV. He couldn’t remember the last time he just sat down and tried to watch something, but right now dancing only reminded him about things-he-did-not-want-to-think-about.

When Lilia found him, he was on his fifth attempt at learning a new bun he’d seen someone wear in a commercial.

“Viktor,” she said, and the use of his actual name could only mean one thing. “One of my background ballerinas resigned today.”

“Mhm?”

He kept his eyes trained on the TV, fingers stilled in his hair. He didn’t want to turn his head and find out how angry she was.

“She told me she’s pregnant.”

“Oh, really?”

He hoped his voice wasn’t as shrill as it sounded to him. Lilia walked up to block the TV screen, forcing him to look at her.

“Is there something you’d like to say to that?”

No. Not really.

“It’s not like I told her to keep it,” he mumbled, lowering his hands to clasp them over his lap. “It takes two people to make a mistake.”

“And two people to make up for it.”

He curled in on himself, staring at his knees. He didn’t understand why any of this was _his_ fault.

“Besides,” Lilia continued, “it’s a child, not a mistake.”

“You mean a lump of cells,” he snorted, shrinking at her disapproving gaze. “And it’s a mistake to _me_.”

She sighed, coming around to sit down on the arm of the couch, enviously graceful even at her age.

“Well, you’re still the father.”

“I think she made it pretty clear she doesn’t want me to be. Which suits me just fine.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Viktor stood up, suddenly itching to dance.

“I’m going to practice,” he announced, grabbing his bag from the hallway where he’d left it earlier and running out to his bike, hoping she wouldn’t call him back inside.

He also hoped she wouldn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to get involved, though he didn’t have any high hopes that she wouldn’t. What was she going to say? _Oh, if only my little Vitenka had never learnt of ballet!_

The words had become a sort of driving force for him, whenever he felt like practice was too hard, or their classes too demanding. He was going to become the most famous principal danseur in the world, and then it wouldn’t matter if she thought his life choices were disappointing or not.

But a child? That wasn’t in the plan. It was the _opposite_ of the plan, actually, and Viktor was scared of the implications. If Olesya wanted to become a mother for some godforsaken reason it had nothing to do with him.

He just wanted to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were probably many more things I wanted to say about this chapter but I finished it a couple days ago and forgot it all haha. If there's something specific you want to see from their backstories, let me know! It might be fun to add something more with Phichit for example for Yuuri. The story of how Viktor met Yurio and had to deal with being a parent isn't precisely the happiest but like I promised before, this story won't be angsty. Not sure when exactly I'll add that chapter, we'll see! 
> 
> Sorry that you have to wait a little bit longer for the arrival in Hasetsu haha. The plan is to update Miliy before I write chapter 10 though, so be on the look-out! ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Yuuri didn't know better, he'd think he was being seduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is like, one big meme. Hope you like it anyway. I was just really sad that we have to say goodbye to Phichit for now. At least there's a treat for you at the end;) (Also, just so you know, everything in this chapter is meant for fun, so the fanfic post at the beginning is not me making fun of anyone or anything. Just saying since Nora thought it could be taken that way...)
> 
> There are some instances in this chapter where they speak Japanese, and to separate it from English (instead of constantly having to write out what language they talk in), anything written 'Hi' means it's in Japanese, while "Hi" as usual is English. Tell me if it's too confusing but it was the best I could come up with. 
> 
> I added links to some songs, just in case anyone wants to listen to them so you don't have to manually search on youtube heh. Listening is not required though! And I know this story is set in 2015 and one of the songs wasn't published yet back then but like, let me live.
> 
> I made up a patronym for Viktor. Also, I recently watched Yuri on Stage, it was amazing. Highly recommend.
> 
> And I'm sorry that it took me longer to update than planned, the chapter for Miliy ended up extremely long. My vacation ends soon so idk how fast I'll be updating from now on, maybe I'll have to write shorter chapters. 30 pages takes a while to type haha... 
> 
> As always, thank you for all the kudos and comments, you give me life<333

**figureskatingfics:**

**When you wish upon a star**

Pairing: Yuuri Katsuki/Viktor Nikiforov

Rated: T

A/N: Hey guys!! I’m back with a oneshot about my favorite figure skater WHO JUST GOT A BOYFRIEND CAN YOU BELIEVE IT??? I’m so proud of my son. Also they look too good together?? AND Viktor has a child (though I’m pretty sure Yuri P is a lot more famous than his dad in this community lol). This AU wrote itself basically… (Is it bad that I’ve been secretly rooting for them to get together since forever?)

Also Phichit if you read this you still owe me those pictures for the fic I wrote about your hamsters goddammit :(

\-----------

Yuuri stared up at the night sky, the flickering lights of Detroit reflecting in his glasses. He sighed, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. What was the point of being beautiful when you had no inspiration left?

The stars winked at him, providing no answers. He’d won so many medals, but the next Olympics was still far away and it was difficult to stay focused on the goal. Especially when all his friends in Detroit were happily settling down and finding their place in life.

“Yuuri, do you want me to heat up that leftover pizza for you?” Phichit, his roommate and best friend, called.

He was so lucky to have Phichit in his life, someone who understood, someone who gave him pizza when times were hard.

“Yeah, thanks!” he called back, then returned to his melancholic gazing at the stars.

His routines for the next season weren’t bad, in fact he could probably win with them. He just didn’t _like_ them very much. They felt wrong, somehow. Oh, if only someone could give him a sign of what to do!

Just then, one of the glittering stars began to shine eerily, pulsating strongly. Each time it appeared to come closer, blinding Yuuri with its light. He put a hand over his eyes, squinting against the sudden brightness, and there was a sound of wind chimes in the air which seemed to vibrate around him.

When it finally faded, Yuuri saw a small, flickering node of light bouncing in front of his face. It shone with all the colors of the rainbow, spinning around and almost making him dizzy.

Hastily he looked behind himself, but Phichit seemed not to have noticed.

Reaching his hand out, he hesitantly touched the light with his fingertip, immediately jerking back as if electrified. What could it be?

“Are you my guardian angel?” he whispered in Japanese, and the rainbow spun around again. “My _gay_ guardian angel?”

When Yuuri held his palm out, the little node slowly lowered to rest in his palm, hot to the touch. Leaning in, he saw that the light was filled with glitter as well, all the sparkles ricocheting off his glasses.

That’s when Yuuri realized it _was_ actually shooting pieces of glitter at him, and he scrunched his nose when he almost had to sneeze.

 _Make a wish_ , the thing seemed to say, and Yuuri gasped.

But what would he wish for? He could wish for a new record, but he could get one anyway. Maybe… inspiration?

“I’d like to find my inspiration again,” he wished politely, because Yuuri was a good person who never took things for granted.

The shining little rainbow star thingy exploded in a rain of fireworks, showering Yuuri with a sense of warmth and comfort, before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

That night, Yuuri dreamt of a beautiful Russian man with hair the color of starlight, whose voice definitely didn’t sound the slightest bit like Gru from Despicable Me. He took Yuuri’s hand and showed him all the wonders of the world, filling him with a sense of hope.

When he woke up, he _knew_ he had to find him. But _how_?

 _-_ Keep reading _-_

 

_#viktuuri #i can’t believe there’s a shipname for it already #i’ve been waiting all my life for this moment #i’m sorry i just don’t find russian very sexy #but you do you my son_

**53 notes**

**Phichitchuchu said:** OH MY GOD THIS IS THE BEST FKUCING THING I’VE READ IN MY LIFE I’M SENDING IT TO YUURI RIGHT NOW

 **Phichitchuchu said:** AND CHECK YOUR EMAIL SORRY IT TOOK A WHILE IT WAS HARD TO FIND THE RIGHT SIZE AND THEY KEPT TRYING TO EAT THE HATS and then i forgot to send them before heading to the competition oops

 

♡♡♡

Currently, Yuuri is hiding underneath the covers in his bed. Why? Because he’d taken one bleary-eyed look at Viktor’s ass and promptly decided to save himself from a hard-on.

The man in question is doing stretches and exercises on the floor of the cramped hotel room, offering instructions and cheerful encouragements to Yuri. At least he thinks that’s what he’s been saying, since he talks in Russian. If Yuuri is lucky they haven’t noticed that he’s awake, but that also means he has to lie here and breathe recycled air as he listens to Viktor’s voice and tries to scrub images of his taut ass covered in some tight black fabric from the inside of his eyelids.

Easier said than done.

Oh so slowly, he pushes a hand out from his little cocoon, fumbling for his glasses and phone on the nightstand. Yuri hadn’t kicked or moved around too much, so he’d been able to get a good night’s sleep for once. He still feels groggy, rubbing sleep out of the corners of his eyes before slipping his glasses onto his nose.

His phone screen shines too brightly in the darkness, and he squints at his message notifications. Most of them are from Phichit as per usual. But there’s one from Yuuko, and a couple from Mari, so he deals with those first. Mari asks about accommodations, and with burning cheeks Yuuri replies that no, he and Viktor do _not_ need to share a room thank you very much. He makes a mental note to ask later if they have any allergies, switching over to Yuuko.

Oh no. She wants to come pick them up at the airport in Fukuoka. Yuuri gnaws on his lower lip, weighing his options. It’s very nice of her to do so, of course, and she already reassured him in her message that Nishigori is fully capable of running the rink himself while she’s gone. On the other hand, being shut inside a car with Yuuko having full access to Viktor is… not ideal.

He turns, strangling a groan into his pillow. Maybe he should tell Yuuko what’s going on so she doesn’t embarrass him too much in front of Viktor. Though, a small part of Yuuri _wants_ his family to assume, because he wants to know what Viktor’s reaction would be. There’s no way he can ask outright, but what if Viktor doesn’t deny anything? What if Viktor meant to tell Yuuri last night that he wants to be introduced as Yuuri’s boyfriend, not just his choreographer?

Heart pounding in his chest, Yuuri types out a quick thank you to Yuuko, taking her up on the offer. Then he opens up his conversation with Phichit, smiling fondly at the amount of caps lock and keyboard smashes right until the written words register in his brain.

Smile twitching into horror he clicks on the various links, cringing at the onslaught of social media posts about him and Viktor. Apparently Phichit thinks that now that the competition is over, a good best friend would send ‘encouraging’ links to all the speculations going on with a bunch of laughing-crying emojis tacked on.

 _Don’t forget about breakfast!_ is the only sentence that is remotely relevant, but a glance at the time tells Yuuri it’s still early. He has to wonder if Phichit has been up for hours already, morning person as he is, or if he just saved all these links so he could spam Yuuri today.

 

 _07:58  
_ [ _Why are you like this_ ]

 

It really is too early to be awake, but Yuuri doesn’t think he can go back to sleep knowing Viktor is doing work-outs in illegally short shorts, long legs stretched out as he bends forwards. Yuuri imagines running his fingers along the length of them, teasing the hem of the shorts, Viktor pretending he’s still focused on his exercises.

 

 _07:59  
_ [ _You love me!_ ]

[ _Also did you read the fic I sent you or not????_ ]

_07:59  
 _ [ _I’m not reading some crazy fanfic about my life, Phichit_ ]

_08:00  
_ [ _It’s not crazy!! Just really funny!_ ]

[ _It’s by the same person who wrote about my hamsters and you liked that one:(]_

_08:00  
_  [ _Because it was about hamsters!!_ ]

 _08:00  
_ [ _You know you’re taking this a lot calmer than I thought you would!_ ]

 

Yuuri is about to write an angry reply about how he isn’t dumb and saw several of these posts yesterday already, but a heavy lump jumps on top of him.

He shrieks.

“You’re awake!” Yuri cheers, pawing at the top of the sheets to reveal Yuuri’s head.

“Yura, please don’t jump on people when they’re sleeping,” Viktor sighs, and Yuuri makes the mistake of glancing past Yuri’s beaming face.

Viktor is still in those tight shorts, an athletic shirt loose over his chest. The outfit is completed with a pink, elastic headband pushing his hair away. It makes him look ridiculous. And sexy. Like an 80’s aerobics instructor but attractive.

Yuuri wants to wake up to this every single day for the rest of his life.

“Good morning, Yuuri!”

Certain that his face is reddening, Yuuri tries hard to keep his eyes stuck on Viktor’s face.

“Hi,” he says, the sound coming out weak.

Yuri is sitting on his ribcage, so that might be why.

“I can’t believe dad let you sleep and I had to do all this work,” he pouts, fishing for sympathy.

“That’s terrible,” Yuuri says, squirming to free his arms.

“All you did was stretch!” Viktor disagrees, crossing his arms. It makes his chest muscles stand out, much like Yuuri’s eyes. “You’re still recovering from your cold.”

Yuri sticks his tongue out but thankfully slides off Yuri’s body, allowing him to breathe again. He sits up, coughing a little. He wouldn’t have minded if it was Viktor sitting on him, though.

“You okay?” Viktor asks, smiling wide when Yuuri nods. “Great! I’ll take a shower, then. Yura, be nice.”

With a stern look at his son, Viktor gathers up a bunch of clothes and steps into the bathroom, the click of the door causing Yuuri’s shoulders to slump in relief. He loves being around Viktor, but he’s not sure he can handle all this naked skin.

And yet, he grew up in an onsen.

Well, he didn’t have crushes on the onsen guests, though sometimes he couldn’t help peeking a little. Only above the waist, of course. He wasn’t a pervert or anything.

“Yuuri?”

A finger pokes his arm, and Yuuri flinches at how sore he feels. This competition really took its toll on his body…

“Yes?”

Yuri looks restless, sitting on his legs and staring imploringly at him.

“What’s it like in Hasetsu?”

“In Hasetsu? Well, it’s a rather small place, and right by the ocean. There used to be lots of hot springs, but the one my parents run is the only one left.”

“Okay but what’s the rink like?”

Unable to help a laugh at Yuri’s impatient question, Yuuri reaches out to ruffle his hair the way he’s seen Viktor do before.

“It’s nice. Pretty big! And there are tall windows covering one wall, so it lets in a lot of light.” He pauses to think, letting Yuri swat his hand away. “Ah, but I guess December is pretty dark.”

“I bet it’s _much_ cooler than my rink at home,” Yuri says, immediately grabbing for his phone to show pictures.

Yuuri finds it endearing, how eager he is to share. He shows pictures of both his own rink and the one where the top skaters practice, proudly proclaiming that once he’s in the Junior division he can skate there as well.

It makes Yuuri a tad bit nervous that he won’t like Ice Castle Hasetsu, because it was a little rundown even when Yuuri was a kid, and they’ve only renovated the necessities. Still, there’s a reason Yuuri missed it desperately his first year in Detroit.

“Anyway,” Yuri tells him in the middle of describing things, “if you and dad get married you can skate there too.”

“I- Wait- If we _what_?”

As Yuuri splutters, Yuri turns to him with a blank look.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t _nothing_.”

“I wasn’t supposed to say it.”

Mouth opening and closing around air, Yuuri passes a shaky hand through his hair.

“Have you been reading all those twitter posts?” he asks once he finds his breath again, Yuri blinking innocently at him.

“…yes. I did. I read them all.”

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri groans, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t believe everything people write on the internet, okay? They’re just starting rumors.”

To his surprise, Yuri looks down at his lap, picking at his tights. Desperate for a change of subject, Yuuri grabs his own phone.

“Do you want to take a morning selfie?”

Yuuri hates pictures before he’s fully awake, but Yuri instantly lights up, grabbing for the phone.

“I’ll pick the filter,” he announces, tapping away at Yuuri’s screen and testing angles and lighting.

He’s like a mini-Phichit, and Yuuri would smile if his heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute right now.

 _If you and dad get married_.

Yuri hadn’t looked opposed to the idea, mentioning it so off-handedly that he’d been about to reply _I’d like that_. He feels faint, a burst of butterflies erupting in his chest. If Yuri doesn’t mind thinking about him and Viktor getting married, maybe Viktor said something to him, something about liking Yuuri?

He still isn’t entirely sure if they kissed two nights ago, and can he _really_ be sure that last night was an attempt at another kiss? But Viktor used that pet name again, and Yuuri clutches at his chest, remembering how it felt. He wishes their time in Hasetsu wouldn’t be filled with so much practice, because then he could take them sightseeing, the three of them walking hand in hand, smiling and laughing together…

He poses for pictures with Yuri, twisting and turning however he’s told. Yesterday he’d posted a picture of himself at the podium that Phichit had taken, thanking everyone for their support. When he opens instagram to post the photo that Yuri had agreed on after a lot of arguing with himself, there’s an unreasonable amount of likes and comments waiting for him.

Ignoring them for now, he debates on what to write. Yuri returns to his own phone, scrolling in deep concentration. Something simple is probably best.

 

_[image]_

**yuri_katsuki** Good morning! I’ll be heading for my home rink in Hasetsu with **@v-nikiforov** and **@yuri-plisetsky** later today, wish me luck on my new programs!

_#lookingforwardtoit #imissedeatingkatsudon #seeyouatthefinal!_

 

Satisfied, he clicks share, watching Yuri receive the notification and smile as he reads the post. Stretching with a yawn he looks over to the bathroom door as it opens, Viktor walking out in…

A pair of tight boxer briefs. Are they even briefs? They look more like panties to Yuuri, who all but swallows his tongue as Viktor rummages around for something in his bag, then straightens up again and winks at him.

“Forgot my shaving gel,” Viktor chirps, holding up a fancy toiletry bag.

Yuuri’s eyes keep darting down to his chest, admiring the lean muscle, trying not to blush beetroot red at the sight of perky nipples.

“Okay,” he breathes, wondering how much stubble Viktor would get after just one night.

He regrets not checking yesterday morning. He regrets a lot of things he didn’t do then, but now he thinks of rubbing his cheek against Viktor’s, warmth blossoming inside his chest. He thinks of dozing in bed, curling into Viktor’s body, scratching his skin against Viktor’s stubble…

Is this a new kink of his? His throat feels thick, and he forces his eyes away from Viktor’s naked chest. First the tight shorts, and now this. If Yuuri didn’t know better he’d think he was being seduced.

“Are you done yet?” Yuri asks, still focused on his phone to Yuuri’s relief.

“In a bit,” Viktor replies, tapping at his mouth (not that Yuuri looks). “I have to look good today for Yuuri’s family!”

While Yuri rolls his eyes, Yuuri’s heart stutters. Viktor smiles at him, heart-shaped and devastating, melting every single bone in his body. There’s no way that all of Hasetsu won’t be utterly charmed by him.

“I’m sure they’ll love you,” he blurts out, clutching his phone in his sweaty hands.

If only he could take a picture.

“ _Yuuri_!” Viktor’s smile widens, seeming to glow with the reassurance, his body lifting as if he’s floating an inch above the floor. “I’m sure I’ll love them too!”

Then he darts into the bathroom again, and Yuuri has to sit there and breathe for several seconds, wondering what good deeds he must have done in life to be blessed with a real life Ghibli character.

“Ugh, he’s so _slow_ ,” Yuri complains, but all Yuuri can do is sigh dreamily.

Even if Viktor isn’t interested in him romantically, being his friend will be amazing enough. Wherever he goes he lights up the world, and Yuuri wants to bask in that light for as long as he can.

He falls onto his back, head thumping against the pillow, hands clasped over his chest around his phone. Ignoring how it vibrates with incoming messages, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like to introduce Viktor to his family as his partner in life rather than work.

It would be very, _very_ nice.

♡♡♡

Viktor hums to himself, stroking his newly shaved face to make sure he didn’t miss a spot. He imagines going out to ask Yuuri to check for him instead, biting his lip at the thought of Yuuri’s hands cradling his face, maybe dipping lower, maybe pulling him in for a kiss…

He’s in a great mood today, eager to spend time with Yuuri’s family and learn more about him. Hopefully, despite the rigorous training schedule they’ll have to keep up, there will be time for them to be alone. The look on Yuuri’s face as he’d walked out – wide-eyed, thirsty – had left him feeling electrified. Even now he feels Yuuri’s gaze caress his skin, goose bumps erupting on his arms.

Taking his sweet time in the bathroom he makes sure his hair looks impeccable, does his longer facial routine, debates on whether or not the clothes he picked are perfect enough. He doesn’t know much about Yuuri’s family, so he’s not sure what they’d expect of him.

Lost in thoughts of how best to introduce himself, he startles at the loud banging on the door.

“Are you done yet?! I need to pee!”

Aah, his little Yura is so crude. Gathering up his toiletries, Viktor eases the door open just a crack.

“If you ask nicely, I might let you inside.”

Yura pouts at him, huffing with the impatience that only a child has.

“We’re also supposed to leave for breakfast soon, or did you forget?”

Viktor did forget. He steps back to let his son in, frowning when he’s still in tights and favorite work-out sweater, the one with printed cat paws.

“Didn’t you get dressed yet?”

“No,” is all he says, pushing Viktor out and closing the door a tad too loudly.

Shrugging, Viktor glances over at Yuuri, who is still sitting in bed. He looks wonderful there, sleep-mussed and at home. Viktor can’t help but smile at him.

“Sorry about Yura, he hates mornings.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” Yuuri says, looking bewildered. “He’s been nice.”

“Mm, that’s good. Well, he does like you a lot!”

Yuuri’s cheeks darken and he hurries to look down at his phone again. Taking one more moment to drink the sight in, Viktor heads over to their suitcases to start packing the last things and find something for Yuri to wear.

“Ah, I almost forgot!” Yuuri shifts on the bed when Viktor looks up at him, pointing at Viktor’s phone on the nightstand. “Your phone’s been ringing. Yuri said it was probably fine but I thought you should know.”

“Oh, I guess it’s Yakov, then.” Viktor takes out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, guessing Yuri will want to wear his leopard-printed sweater again. “What time are we meeting the others for breakfast?”

“About ten minutes?”

Viktor straightens up, staring at Yuuri in horror.

“I’m sorry, I took so long in the bathroom! Will you be okay? I think Yura should be done soon, but-“

Yuuri waves him off, offering him a weak smile.

“I don’t need more than a few minutes, so don’t worry about it.”

Viktor squints at him in suspicion. If Yuuri only takes a few minutes to get himself ready in the morning, how come he always looks so flawless?

“It’s _fine_ ,” Yuuri repeats, pushing the covers off his lower body and getting out of bed.

He looks entirely too good in thin sweatpants and a t-shirt. Viktor wants to bury his face in his stomach and never get up. He has intimate knowledge of how wonderful those abs are, after all.

“Um, Viktor?” When Viktor looks up, Yuuri is nodding at his phone. “Someone’s calling again.”

“Right, I should get that.”

To Viktor’s delight, Yuuri picks the phone up and walks over with it, their fingers brushing when it switches hands.

“Thank you, _Yuuri_.”

Viktor enjoys the way Yuuri’s eyes darken at the sound of his name, the way they flicker down to his mouth. It makes his heart pick up speed, and he thinks of how easy it would be to pull Yuuri down to the floor with him, to let him straddle Viktor’s thighs and push his hands up Viktor’s dress shirt.

He wouldn’t even mind if it got wrinkly.

“Your phone,” Yuuri gently reminds him, backing up and heading over to his own suitcase.

Slightly disappointed, Viktor looks at the caller ID and promptly cuts the call off. It starts calling again. He cuts it off.

 _I’m in Japan, it’s too expensive to call_ , he types on messenger.

Of course, she facetimes him instead.

“Yes,” he sighs, knowing he can’t get out of this one.

Soon enough Olesya’s face fills his phone screen, a kitchen in the background.

 _“How many times do I have to call before you actually answer?”_ she asks, voice bristling with irritation _. “I might start to think you’re avoiding me.”_

“I’m _terribly_ sorry. But now’s not really a good time to talk, so-“

_“Are you seriously going to pull Yura out of school for another two weeks?! You know what I think about you taking him on all these trips-“_

“It’s what makes him happy.”

_“He has to go to school!”_

Sighing, Viktor turns to give Yuuri an apologetic look, but finds him busy rearranging things in his suitcase.

“He’s doing fine in school, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“ _Just because you’re dating some figure skater doesn’t mean Yura has to suffer for it!”_

Viktor blinks incredulously at her, then remembers she can’t see him since he never turned on the camera.

“I think you know that I’m not exactly dragging him around,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek when she rolls her eyes. “If you only called to complain, do you think we could do this some other time?”

_“Viktor Alekseyevich Nikiforov, is this a joke to you? I’ll have you know that-“_

Tuning her out, Viktor muffles a groan into his hand. She isn’t usually this unreasonable, but she must have seen the media uproar. Even though Viktor has sole custody they’ve reached an understanding, to make sure that Yuri can grow up with both parents in his life and without them fighting. Still, sometimes Viktor secretly wishes she would stop butting into his business like this.

The bathroom door opens and Yuri peeks out, making a face at Viktor’s phone. Viktor raises his eyebrows in question, holding the phone out to him, but Yuri shakes his head.

_“Viktor, are you listening to me?!”_

“Of course I’m listening,” he drawls, and Yuri snorts out loud. He watches from the corner of his eye as Yuuri enters the bathroom, perhaps lingering a little on his ass. “But I’m really going to have to call you back, alright? I’ll make sure he does his homework and eats his vegetables, so there’s nothing to worry about! Bye~”

He ends the call, and picks up Yuri’s clothes.

“Here,” he says, insistent when Yuri pouts at him. “You can wear any sweater you like so don’t complain, okay?”

Reluctantly, Yuri grabs the clothes and starts to change while Viktor finishes packing. There isn’t much to do since he already packed the previous day, but somehow Yuri always manages to mess things around.

“Should I wear something nicer?” Yuri asks, plucking at his leopard sweater. “You look like you’re going to wear a suit.”

“I’m not wearing a suit,” Viktor says defensively, smoothing out the dress pants as he gets up from the floor. “And you’re cute enough as you are.”

Yuri fidgets, hesitating to put it on. If Viktor needs to be honest, the sweater isn’t _too_ bad. He bought it from a high-end store, after all, and the print does look cute on his Yurochka. Surprisingly. Then again, everything is cute on his son. That’s just the law.

“Mom would make me wear something else.”

Frowning, Viktor sits down on Yuuri’s bed, patting the space next to him. When Yuri comes, he pulls him onto his lap, grinning at the noise of protest that he’s too big for this already.

“ _You_ like this sweater, Yurochka,” he points out, poking at his nose. “And she wasn’t angry at you, so don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

Viktor smiles, bouncing his legs a few times and laughing at the outraged look on Yuri’s face as he scrambles to get off him.

“Papa, you’re so childish,” he complains, but slips the sweater onto his shoulders.

While he continues to smile, Viktor’s heart feels heavy in his chest. It’s not the first time he wishes things were better for Yuri, that he wouldn’t have to listen to his parents argue. He and Olesya don’t dislike each other as much as they have trouble agreeing on things, and Viktor is secretly happy that the custody isn’t shared between them. It means Viktor always has the final word, and usually he goes along with what Yuri wants.

Olesya might care, and she might regret her life choices, but she’s definitely _not_ a fan of figure skating. In her opinion Yuri should become the next principal danseur for the Bolshoi, like Viktor was for all of a glorious six months. Viktor, on the other hand, has nightmares where Yuri is forced to go along with that, much like his own parents wished he would have grown up a business man instead.

Well, they didn’t expect him to become world famous or anything, they just didn’t want him to be world famous for _ballet_. 

Maybe now he can be famous as Yuuri Katsuki’s boyfriend instead. It’s a highly appealing thought.

“Yura,” he says, “don’t forget to charge your phone before the trip.”

He’s gifted with an affronted glare at the reminder, as Yuri tries to be discreet about that fact that he snatches Yuuri’s gold medal from its spot on the nightstand and slips it over his head.

Oh well. Better to be glared at than to have Yuri complain the whole trip. As for the medal…

Viktor smiles. He has a feeling Yuuri won’t mind.

♡♡♡

Phichit jumps him the moment he steps into the hotel’s restaurant, hopping around him like an excited little dog.

“The world’s best skater just arrived!” he calls, entirely insensitive to Yuuri’s embarrassment. “Oh, and there’s the future champion!”

Yuri squeals when Phichit picks him up, their laughter filling the sleepy atmosphere, and Yuuri can’t help but smile and shake his head at the commotion.

“A normal ‘good morning’ would have been fine, Phichit,” he sighs, shoulders slumped.

“No way!” Phichit pulls Yuri with him into the restaurant, already chattering about the various dishes the hotel offers, as if he didn’t eat there the previous day.

While Yuuri loves Phichit, he might need to have a stern talk with him about these wingman tendencies of his.

“Isn’t it nice?” Viktor asks, stepping up next to Yuuri and placing a hand at the small of his back. “Some excitement in the morning!”

Yuuri would have replied, really, it’s just that he seems to have swallowed his tongue. Viktor smiles down at him, and Yuuri’s breath disappears as well. He can remember several instances when Phichit tried to hook him up with someone, tried pointing out to a reluctant Yuuri that _I swear they’re interested, for god’s sake Yuuri look at how they’re undressing you with their eyes!_ The amount of times he’s appreciated the sentiment…

He would count them, but all of them involve Viktor anyway.

“He’s not usually this bad,” he mumbles, feeling his heart pick up speed when Viktor doesn’t let go of him.

How could Phichit just leave him like this, in his time of need!

Viktor hums, a finger on his lips, the hand on Yuuri’s back sliding along his sweater to curl around his hip instead.

“I suppose we should join the others,” Viktor says, sounding reluctant.

Yuuri considers the idea of getting a table just for the two of them, but then he remembers Yuri and how sad he would probably feel. Besides, Viktor would think he was both rude and silly if he even suggested it – at least, that’s what Yuuri thinks right up until Viktor leans in close to him, warming his side as he whispers into his hair.

“Too bad it’s not just the two of us, hm?”

 There’s an electric current sizzling through Yuuri’s veins, kick starting his sleep-ridden body into gear as he jumps high out of Viktor’s hold.

Oh god, he isn’t _ready_.

“L-let’s, um, let’s hurry up before they run out of food,” he babbles, speed walking between tables and glancing at the corner where most of the skaters in the men’s single division and a few of the ladies are seated.

Viktor can’t just flirt with him in the morning like this! He’s not awake yet! If he doesn’t walk away, he’ll end up doing something unforgivable like lean into his touch, or give him a teasing smile and reply ‘oh Viktor, I’ll make sure we get _plenty_ of alone time in Hasetsu’.

Maybe Viktor would forgive him, but Yuuri is already by the juice section, pouring himself something with too much sugar. He’s so busy berating himself internally for the way his back and hip burns with the ghost of Viktor’s touch to notice Phichit sneaking up on him.

He should have expected this, honestly.

“Soo…” Phichit starts, leaning casually against the counter next to him. “I tried to get Yuri to sleep in my room again, but he was really insistent on getting his sleepover with you.”

Yuuri squints at him in suspicion, even though his glasses let him see in perfect detail how thirsty he is for details on Yuuri’s love life.

“Where are you going with this?” he asks, sipping on his juice.

Over by the table, Viktor pulls a chair out and sits down, smiling at something Yuri says before the child runs over to the food. Should Yuuri bring him some juice? He doesn’t even know which type he prefers. Maybe Yuuri can subtly ask about all his likes and dislikes once they’re in Hasetsu, under the pretense of making sure he wouldn’t be forced to eat something he doesn’t like.

“Wow, Yuuri you are _not_ subtle,” Phichit tells him, grinning from ear to ear when Yuuri’s face heats up. “I _was_ going to apologize for not giving you some time together to celebrate that record of yours, but I’m starting to get the feeling that Viktor is all about the family life anyway.”

When Yuuri glances over at the table again, Viktor smiles and winks at him. If Yuuri wasn’t in public he’d give in to the feeling of his knees buckling underneath him, just clutch at his heart and die right then and there.

“Huh?” he asks when Phichit waves a hand in front of his eyes, groaning when his so called best friend mimics the wink and then pretends to swoon, clearly mocking Yuuri’s feelings.

“Oh noo,” Phichit moans, trying hard not to laugh as Yuuri shoves at him. “If only a hot Russian dad was here to catch me!”

“Stop that!” he hisses, turning back to the juice and grabbing a glass, picking the orange juice for Viktor.

Everyone likes orange juice, right?

Yuuri has no idea what they drink for breakfast in Russia, but he desperately needs to leave Phichit behind and forget he exists right now.

“But you _finally_ have a boyfriend, Yuuri,” Phichit complains, clapping his hands together and giving Yuuri a pleading look. “I need to make up for all the time I’ve lost trying not to cry over the poor hearts you’ve broken.”

“I haven’t broken any hearts,” Yuuri snorts, one eye on Viktor who is thankfully engaged in conversation with Mila now. “I haven’t! Stop looking at me like that!”

“You deserve me looking at you like this,” Phichit says, shaking his head. “Please tell me you guys at least talked things through and got together officially?”

“And when would we have had time to do that?!” Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek, wishing he could hide his face in his hands without spilling juice all over himself.

“But _Yuuri_ ,” Phichit argues, looking horrified at this piece of information, “he _licked_ your _abs_. The least you could do is let him know you like him!”

“A lot of people have licked my abs,” Yuuri reminds him, giving him a pointed look. “Including you.”

Groaning out loud, Phichit throws his head back to glare at the ceiling.

“I tried,” he whispers to himself, sweeping his hands out to the sides. “Oh boy, did I _try_.”

“I’ll just,” Yuuri says, squirming away from him. “Take this juice. To the table. Right now.”

Phichit allows him to escape, but he knows he’ll be hearing about this later. Later is a lot better than _now,_ however, especially when Phichit gets like that. Yuuri might have had a good night’s sleep, but that doesn’t mean he’s interested in another morning lecture on _Ten reasons Katsuki Yuuri is a heartbreaker and must be stopped_.

It was a buzzfeed article, though Yuuri’s fairly certain it was faked.

At the table, both Viktor and Mila look up as he joins them.

“What’s this?” Viktor asks when he places the juice in front of him.

“It’s… juice?”

Viktor keeps looking between Yuuri and the glass, bewildered.

“For you,” Yuuri clarifies. “I got you some juice. If you want it?”

“You got me juice,” Viktor breathes, cupping the glass with his hands, staring at it like he’s never seen the color orange before.

He then adds something in Russian, and it must have been a joke because Mila doubles over in sudden laughter, crying into the tablecloth. Yuuri gives her a concerned look but Viktor ignores her, so he figures she’ll be alright.

“Thank you, Yuuri.”

When Yuuri shrugs, Viktor pushes his chair out, standing up with a flourish.

“Let me get you some food!” he exclaims, smiling wide. “What would you like? I don’t know what they have but I can always ask the kitchen to make you something, and-“

“Anything’s fine!” Yuuri cuts him off with, all too aware of the silence at the table as everyone turns to watch them. “Really, I’m fine with whatever.”

Viktor hums, tapping at his lips. Helpless, Yuuri follows the path of his finger, wishing that was his mouth colliding with those lips instead.

“I’ll just grab a little of each!” Satisfied with his solution, Viktor hurries off to the breakfast buffet, and Yuuri wishes he could just drown in his juice.

“Wow,” Leo says, Mila’s shoulders still shaking in silent laughter.

“Aww, when’s the marriage?” Sara asks, eyes glittering.

“I,” Yuuri starts, having no idea how to even begin, but he’s interrupted by Yuri shushing Sara as he returns with a filled plate.

“We’re not supposed to tell Yuuri,” he stage whispers, as if Yuuri isn’t within hearing distance.

“Not supposed to tell him what?” Georgi asks, listening intently as Yuri explains in rapid Russian.

For some reason, Mila starts laughing harder, coughing at the lack of air in her lungs. Yuuri resolutely stares at his hands where they’re clutching the glass, so, _so_ happy that Chris had to take an early flight and couldn’t join them. A few minutes later Viktor returns, a large tray in his hands and a staff member at his heels carrying a similarly overflowing tray.

“Just pick whatever you like!” he tells Yuuri happily, the poor girl he’d dragged into the mess torn between amusement and… well, more amusement.

“Wow,” Leo says again, and Yuuri lets his forehead fall onto the table.

“Yuuri?”

“Don’t worry,” Phichit says reassuringly from somewhere above Yuuri’s head, and he just _knows_ he’s taking pictures. “He’s absolutely _thrilled_.”

Sure, if thrilled equals feeling like his heart’s about to burst out of his chest while simultaneously wanting to run away but _also_ melt into Viktor’s arms.

“He doesn’t _look_ thrilled.” Yuri sounds like he doubts Phichit quite a lot, and there’s the scrape of a chair before Yuri comes around to poke at Yuuri’s head. When Yuuri doesn’t move, too busy begging the world to have mercy on him, Yuri places something hard and flat on top of his head. “Take a picture like this!”

There’s a heavy thump as Mila falls off her chair, howling with laughter as Yuuri cries internally and surrenders to his fate.

He should have just gotten a table on his own.

♡♡♡

 

[ _Image: The back of Yuuri’s head, his gold medal placed on top of it, two large trays full of breakfast foods neatly arranged around him_ ]

♥  **4,386 likes**

 **Phichit+chu** Yuuri brought Viktor a glass of juice, so naturally Viktor brought him every food item in the breakfast buffet! The perks of being a gold medalist ;)

_#yurikatsuki #nhktrophy #yuuridoesitbetter #viktuuri #wheredoigetamanlikethis_

 

**@mila-b**

_HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ANYTHING AS BEAUTIFUL AS A RUSSIAN MATING DANCE_

#viktuuri #ialmostdiedlaughing

 

**@mila-b**

**@sara-crispino** _why do you never bring me copious amounts of food and propose to me over juice_

#viktuuri #relationshipgoals #iliveforthisnow

 

**@christophe-gc**

_When you’re at the airport and miss out on all the good stuff :/_

_[image]_

#nhktrophy #goinghome #seeyouatthefinalindeed

 

♡♡♡

Before leaving for the airport, Viktor disappears with Yuri in tow to spend the time shopping for clothes at the mall near the hotel. They were lucky to find tickets to Fukuoka on such short notice, considering how small the Shinshu-Matsumoto airport is. However, once Viktor had googled the shopping offered in Hasetsu he had quickly decided on getting some new clothes before leaving, despite Yuuri’s reassurance that Yutopia has washing machines.

Yuuri spends the time with Phichit and Celestino, planning out his practice schedule for the lead-up to the final. He probably needs something more to wear than three sets of practice clothes, his costumes, tracksuit, and the tight jeans Phichit smuggled from Yuuri’s closet into his own suitcase, but unlike Viktor he doesn’t mind buying something simple from Uniqlo after they arrive.

Besides, maybe some of his old clothes still fit.

“Yuu-ri,” Phichit sings when Celestino leaves for a bathroom break. “I’ve made the calculations now, and approximately five thousand people would die from happiness if you posted a picture of you and Viktor kissing, and that’s not including the ones who will spontaneously combust.”

“Five thousand people need to get a life,” Yuuri replies, throwing a napkin at him. “Why are you even telling me this?”

They’re sitting in a small café next to the hotel, and Yuuri is infinitely happy that most people in here are Japanese and too polite to show if they’re listening in on the conversation. Not that they would, he hopes, but he’s spent too much time away from home. Things could have changed, for all he knows.

“Because we have needs!” Phichit waves his phone screen at him, but Yuuri resolutely looks to the side.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for that last post on instagram,” he says, and Phichit slumps in his seat in mock shame.

Yuuri knows he has _no_ shame whatsoever, which is why the glint in his eyes is that much worrying as he taps his phone against his chin.

“You know, I’m not going to the final this year,” Phichit starts, Yuuri inching back in his chair to put some distance between them, like it would help. “I’m half tempted to join you and make a documentary out of it.”

“Please, don’t.”

“I’d call it ‘Yuuri’s road to getting some’, or maybe ‘What will win – Yuuri’s obliviousness or Viktor’s thirst?’.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Maybe I’ll start a bet,” Phichit hums in thought, lips twitching in amusement. “Like if you think Yuuri will confess before the final, re-tweet if you think he’ll do it on camera after breaking all the records.”

Yuuri considers throwing another napkin at him, or maybe just finish his tea and throw the empty cup instead. Luckily for Phichit his phone vibrates, and Yuuri unlocks it to a picture Viktor has sent him of Yuri trying on an adorable hoodie with cat ears. A moment later another picture loads, Viktor wearing a matching one but in pale purple rather than Yuri’s yellow.

“Look at you,” Phichit snorts, Yuuri shooting him a dark look that definitely hides the blush he’s sporting. “He better treat you right, you hear me?”

 

11:13  
[ _Do you prefer green or blue?_ ]

 

Where did he even _find_ those sweaters? And in Viktor’s size??

 

11:13  
[ _Idk, why?_ ]

 

11:14  
[ _Secret ;)_ ]

 

Yuuri throws a hand over his mouth, cheeks burning. It’s just a smiley, and yet his heart flutters in his chest. Or maybe that’s because they both look absolutely adorable, and lacking words he hands the phone over to Phichit, who immediately grins wide and toothy.

“It’s like you’re married with a kid now,” he says, sighing wistfully. “You won’t forget about your best friend, right?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says, taking off his glasses to clean them on the hem of his shirt. “Are you going to delete those pictures and videos Chris sent you?”

“Yuuri, no! Those are _art_!”

“They’re embarrassing.”

“You think everything’s embarrassing,” Phichit mutters, and Yuuri tries not to feel the sting of the words.

He draws in a breath, folding his hands on the table.

“Phichit… I don’t mean to complain, but aren’t you a little too invested in this?”

“In what?”

Phichit blinks innocently at him, but there’s a guilty twitch in his eye.

“You were competing too…”

Even though Yuuri knows he tends to over think things, and that once something’s on his mind it feels impossible to let go of it, Phichit has learnt over the years to not get swept up in Yuuri’s selfishness. And yet he went out of his way to help Yuuri with his new programs, even babysat for Viktor so they could go out partying. Isn’t it a little too much?

“Yuuri, if you’re feeling bad about something, just come out and say it so I can reassure you it’s fine!”

He can’t help but let out a small laugh at that, so typical Phichit. Always bright and cheerful, always looking towards the future, and never ever blaming Yuuri for his shortcomings.

“I really wish you had made it to the final, so we could compete against each other again,” he says instead, Phichit huffing at his words.

“Of course! But we both know it’s impossible for me to get there yet, not until I’ve got my quads down! Which, by the way, you’re helping a _lot_ with so don’t give me that look! I’ll dethrone you next season, alright?”

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t want me to retire,” Yuuri jokes, though he still feels bad.

“Why would I want my best friend to retire?” Phichit sighs, putting his phone aside. “Yuuri, you’ve been drooling over Viktor for years, I just never knew it was _this_ bad. If I can’t get to the final I can at least get you your man!”

Searching Phichit’s earnest face, Yuuri worries at his lip. He always feels like Phichit does so many things for him, while Yuuri never gives anything back. Not that he has a lot to give, compared to the eternal sunshine and determination that is his friend.

“I just…” Yuuri hesitates, running a hand through his still-messy hair. “You were so excited about going to Japan and meeting up with Leo and Guang-Hong again, and then I just go ahead all selfishly like that.”

“Well.” Phichit leans back, staring hard at Yuuri until he meets his gaze, brows knitted. “I know how you are when you get in that sort of headspace, even if I never really saw it at a competition before. It’s like you transform into this perfect figure skating monster, kind of?”

“A _what_.”

“You just keep going when lesser men would die!”

“That’s not something to look so happy about!”

Phichit laughs, but soon turns serious again.

“Look, if I crammed two new programs because the love of my life showed up with them on a silver platter and then broke a world record _plus_ the media hype, I’d forget to check up on the rest of the world, too.”

“He’s not my-! _Phichit_.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, leaning on his elbows over the table, palms cradling his cheeks. “If you’re so desperate to feel bad, you could always offer to do all the cleaning and dishes for the rest of the season!”

Slumping in his chair, Yuuri groans at how eager Phichit looks.

“You just want to get out of cleaning duty.”

“I would never!” Phichit gasps, complete with a hand over his heart. “Besides, you’ve given me enough new followers and likes to be forgiven. I’ve been having so much fun!”

“At my expense…”

“Only a little at your expense.”

Yuuri sends him a _look_ , but Celestino chooses that moment to return.

“Alright, boys!” he says, patting his notebook where they’ve been arguing about Yuuri’s amount of training. “Let’s get back to work, hmm?”

Yuuri sighs, but resigns himself to his actual friend status in Phichit’s eyes – best meme friend. A while later, after Phichit has been working furiously on his phone, Yuuri’s phone vibrates with a link he really should know better than to click.

**Top ten theme songs when Yuuri Katsuki enters a rink**

**10 -[Another one bites the dust](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rY0WxgSXdEE)**  by **Queen**

_[Image of Yuuri tying his skates]_

**9 –[Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEjLoHdbVeE) ** by **ABBA**

_[Image of Yuuri zipping down his tracksuit jacket]_

**8 –[Blow your mind (Mwah)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nydxbGhgv8) ** by **Dua Lipa**

_[Image of Yuuri running a hand through his slicked-back hair]_

7 – **[Attack on Titan theme song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMXgHfHxKVM)**

_[Gif of Yuuri stepping onto the ice]_

**6 –[Ice, Ice, Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rog8ou-ZepE) ** by **Vanilla Ice**

_[Image of Yuuri stretching against a wall, ass out]_

**5 –[Teenage dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yr1p7BvCQ0U) ** by **Darren Chris**

_[Image of Yuuri smiling and waving at the audience]_

**4 –[Sexbomb](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMoXON7k--c) ** by **Tom Jones**

_[Image of Yuuri in last season’s costume, tugging at the black choker while biting his lip]_

**3 –[Star Wars, the Imperial March](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNv5sPu0C1E)**

_[Gif of Yuuri walking along the side of the rink, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders]_

**2 –[Applause](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pco91kroVgQ) ** by **Lady Gaga**

_[Gif of Yuuri blowing a kiss to the audience as he skates past]_

**1 –[Centuries](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBr7kECsjcQ) ** by **Fall Out Boy**

_[Gif of Yuuri landing the quad flip]_

 

Yuuri grits his teeth, clenching the phone in a trembling hand. On the other side of the table Phichit shakes with suppressed laughter, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Delete it.”

“No! Yuuri, it already has a thousand likes!”

“All the more reason to delete it!”

He lunges for Phichit’s phone across the table, missing by a mile.

“Ciao Ciao, help!” Phichit scrambles to get out of his chair, a shit-eating grin splitting his face in two. “Yuuri doesn’t like being appreciated!”

“I’m not your personal shit posting content!” he screeches even as he follows Phichit, wincing at the commotion they’re creating in the small café. “Get back here!”

Celestino makes the wise decision to stay in his seat and continue sipping on his coffee.

♡♡♡

On the plane, Viktor doesn’t so much sulk as fake it for attention. Of course it’s a small plane. Of course there are only two-by-two seats. _Of course_ he lets his son sit next to Yuuri, while Viktor sits behind them.

Maybe they should get another kid so that the kids can sit together, and he can sit next to Yuuri. He’s sure that Yura would make for a great older brother. Then again, they have Makkachin already…

Making plans for future children is not what Viktor is supposed to be doing. He’s supposed to read his book, and not come up with dream scenarios that leave him a little too breathless. He doesn’t even _want_ another kid. Unless Yuuri wants one, because then he’ll consider it. At least consider to consider it.

Anyway, the point is that Viktor is all sorts of nervous about meeting Yuuri’s family. He’s glimpsed some of them at the Japanese Nationals, though he never approached Yuuri whenever they were with him. It doesn’t help that Yuuri is a private person, not talking much about them in interviews and the like. He knows about the onsen, of course, and Yuuri seems happy about seeing them so he shouldn’t worry too much, but…

Viktor wants to make a good impression. He wants it so much it _hurts_ , but it wasn’t until he got on the plane that it struck him how fast things are moving. Sure, he’s lowkey liked Yuuri for a while, but right now it’s all so _real_. Even Yuri seems happy about the development, but at the same time it’s hard to believe that it could be this easy. Hence the reason he’s so nervous about meeting his possible future in-laws.

Since the other two don’t notice his fake sulking and the words on the pages of his book don’t register in his brain, Viktor picks up his phone and scrolls through pictures. The latest ones make him smile, and he sinks lower into his cramped seating. When Yuri had seen the sweaters he’d immediately demanded to try one on, convincing Viktor that yes, they all needed matching cat-ear sweaters. It was of extreme importance. Viktor could only agree. Nothing in the world could be more adorable that his son and (boyfriend? future husband?) posing together, grinning and making peace signs. Yuri in yellow, Yuuri in dark blue. And then the pictures where he joined them, looking so happy he barely recognizes himself.

A critical hit to his heart, for sure. He almost refused to post the pictures on instagram, wanting to keep them to himself. Even if the public suspects things, Viktor doesn’t need them to know _everything_.

“Viktor?”

He looks up at Yuuri where he’s craning his neck to see over the back of his seat, then at Yura when he pops up as well.

“Dad, what do you think is cooler, a Bielmann spin or a sit spin?”

“We can’t decide,” Yuuri explains, offering him a shy smile.

Viktor swallows, not without difficulty. A flight attendant walks past, eyeing them disapprovingly for not sitting properly in their seats.

“I don’t know…” he says, too amazed by the fact that _they’re actually doing this_.

They’re going to Yuuri’s home. Yuuri wants them there, wants Viktor and Yuri to know this part of his life. Even if they’ll spend most of the time working on his programs, Viktor can’t think of anything better to do. Just knowing that he can do something for Yuuri, when Yuuri has given them so much, and without him even knowing it…

“I think both are good,” he decides, and Yuuri hums with a slow nod.

Yuri, on the other hand, scrunches up his face in annoyance.

“No! You have to pick _one_!”

Sighing, Viktor shares a look with Yuuri. It’s unexpectedly fond. Viktor doesn’t know how to deal with this anymore.

“Then, I guess I’ll pick the Bielmann spin?”

Yuuri smiles sweetly, looking to Yuri for his conclusion. The child purses his lips, tapping his fingers on the top of his seat a few times before huffing.

“Then I’ll go with the sit spin. Dad always picks the lame things.”

“Of course you would,” Viktor groans, a noise like choked laughter coming from Yuuri’s direction.

Hand over his mouth, Yuuri’s eyes glitter with amusement behind his glasses. He’s so beautiful it should be impossible, and  yet there he is, alive and breathing. Viktor wants to pout and have Yuuri kiss it better, wants to hear him coo at Viktor that _Yuuri_ thinks he’s cool, so don’t worry about it.

Then Yuuri clears his throat, removing the hand covering his face and making a valiant attempt at looking one hundred percent serious.

“You’re right, Yuri,” he says sagely, biting his lower lip against another laugh. “You’re so much better at choreography than he is.”

“I am!” Yuri exclaims, disappearing from Viktor’s view.

With a quick look at Viktor’s devastated face, Yuuri follows after.

Viktor wants to curl up into a little ball on the floor and _cry_ , and he’s not sure if it’s because of the relentless teasing or because of, well, the fact that the relentless teasing was done _together_ , his son and the man he’s in love with teaming up and having fun and just generally enjoying each other’s company.

He turns to the window, biting his cheek against the silly smile spreading across his face. He never thought it would be possible for another person to fit this perfectly into their lives, but Yuuri is the kind of person who will constantly go above and beyond expectations it seems.

Viktor really, _really_ needs to kiss him.

♡♡♡

Yuuri is already regretting this, and they haven’t even met up with Yuuko yet. He can just _tell_ from her most recent text that she’s oh so eager to interrogate him, and his only relief is that Viktor doesn’t speak Japanese. The problem? Yuuko knows _English_ , and who knows what sort of things she’ll ask Viktor.

As they retrieve their luggage, the sense of dread in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach grows until he’s sweating in his coat. He can tell that people recognize him – he’s certainly been on the news this weekend, and even more so in the Kyushu area. Viktor, on the other hand, happily trails after him as they make their way out into the arrivals lobby. He’d been kind of quiet during the plane ride, and Yuuri can’t help but wonder why.

There’s not much time to think about it now, though, not while scanning the area for his childhood friend. Yuri had latched onto his sleeve the moment they had their bags, following him with wide eyes, and now he almost stumbles as Yuuri steers them towards the exit.

“I think she’s waiting by the car…” he says, pausing to do a final scan before heading outside.

Viktor comes up beside him, curiously gazing at the people around them as well. He stands out, not just by being one of the very few foreigners present, but because that’s just the kind of person he is. Someone who draws eyes to him, so sparklingly handsome that Yuuri thinks it must be hard to look at him in sunlight. Viktor notices him looking, of course, and Yuuri has time to glimpse the beginnings of a smile before he averts his eyes.

“Ah, your glasses are crooked,” Viktor says, hand reaching out to tilt Yuuri’s head up before pushing the glasses into their correct position for him. “There you go.”

Oh god. Yuuri’s knees go weak, the air leaving his lungs as Viktor directs the full force of his smile at him. It’s too domestic. How is he supposed to deal with this?!

“I’m so gay,” he breathes out, immediately tensing up and taking a step back. “I mean! Let’s hurry and find Yuuko!”

“Okay,” Viktor says after a moment, taken aback by Yuuri’s sudden change of subject.

He sure hopes Viktor didn’t hear that first part. Oh please, don’t let him have heard that. Yuuri doesn’t think he can survive it if he did.

“Come _on_ ,” Yuri whines, tugging at his sleeve. “Why are you just standing there?”

“No reason,” Yuuri squeaks, forcing his eyes away from Viktor’s, gripping the handle of his suitcase hard enough to hurt.

This isn’t good. No matter what Viktor feels or doesn’t feel for him, Yuuko and his sister are going to take one look at Yuuri’s face and know how _utterly_ screwed he is. And oh god, what about Minako-sensei? Groaning internally, Yuuri takes a deep breath as they step outside, barely walking a few meters towards the parking space before a voice calls for him.

‘Yuuri! There you are!’ It’s Yuuko, her ponytail waving behind her as she runs towards them. ‘What took you so long?’

‘We had to wait a bit for my skates…’

She comes to a stop before them, pretty eyes glittering with excitement.

‘Oh Yuuri, it’s so good to see you again!’ she gushes, clasping her hands together and bouncing a little on her toes.‘ And with such a handsome boyfriend! I mean, it’s not _Stéphane_ , but he’s close enough!’

‘Please don’t do this to me, Yuuko.’

His plead falls on deaf ears as she grins wide at Viktor and Yuri, stretching her hand out for them to shake it.

“Nice to meet you!” she chirps, Viktor returning the sentiment. “I’m Yuuko, Yuuri’s childhood friend! I love your choreography, by the way!”

“Thank you,” Viktor says, looking genuinely pleased.

“Yuuko used to compete as well,” Yuuri explains as they start walking towards the car. “Ice Castle Hasetsu’s Madonna.”

“Yuuri, no! Don’t say it like that!” She laughs brightly, walking backwards ahead of them. “I’m not anywhere near your level! Ah, but I do get to take credit for teaching you a lot!”

She winks, and Yuuri tries very hard to not think about that one time he asked her what kissing was like and she made him practice on a tomato. He’s never looked at tomatoes the same.

“Wow,” Viktor says, but Yuuri can tell that his smile is a bit strained. “So you two were skating together?”

“Oh, yeah. Yuuko went away for high school, but other than that we skated together almost every day.”

“Must have been hard to be separated like that.”

For some reason, Yuuko looks like she’s on the verge of laughing. Viktor keeps smiling like that, and Yuuri is starting to wonder if he said something wrong.

‘Yuuri, haven’t you told him I’m married?’

Yuuko is definitely laughing now, as Yuuri blinks at her. Did he? He can’t remember if he did. Not that he knows what that’s got to do with anything.

“I didn’t have a lot of friends,” he tells Viktor, shrugging. “Just Yuuko and Nishigori. I don’t know if I told you, but Nishigori is Yuuko’s husband. They run the ice rink together.”

“Oh.” Viktor’s smile morphs into something a little more natural, though he still gives Yuuko a calculating look. “No, you didn’t tell me.”

“Yuuri can be so forgetful,” Yuuko sighs, unlocking the car as they reach it before giving Yuuri a _look_. ‘Like not telling us about getting a _boyfriend_.’

 _Why_ did Yuuko have to use the English word for boyfriend even though she was speaking in Japanese?! Viktor totally understood that. A quick glance at Viktor tells Yuuri that yes, yes he did. Not that he looks upset or anything, more like… he’s blushing? When their eyes meet, Yuuri grabs his suitcase instead and lifts it into the trunk of the car, heart hammering in his chest. This is why he didn’t want to let Yuuko drive them, they’re not even in the car yet and he already wants to run away and hide from embarrassment.

‘ _It’s very recent_ ,’ he hisses to Yuuko, scowling at her when she lifts an eyebrow innocently. ‘Please don’t ask any questions about it?’

‘I can _try_ ,’ Yuuko grins, which is not in the least reassuring. “Here, Viktor, let me take your bag!”

Once they’re all settled in the car and Yuuko has maneuvered them onto the highway, Yuuri tries to think of something to talk about that won’t give Yuuko a chance to tease him. Which, to be honest, is a lost cause even before he starts.

“So, Viktor,” Yuuko starts, glancing back through the rearview mirror to give Yuuri a pointed look. “Yuuri hasn’t had the time to tell us much about you two yet.”

The thing is, Yuuri is sitting in the backseat together with Yuri, while Viktor sits up front. Yuuko announced the seating because ‘Viktor has such long legs, don’t you agree, Yuuri?’ and Yuri was only too happy about sitting next to Yuuri again. This unfortunately means that Yuuri has no control over Yuuko and her vast knowledge of his dark past.

“Oh, well, what would you like to know?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri contemplates banging his head against the window.

“Just the small things, you know, like how long have you known each other,” Yuuko starts, sending another one of her _you’re just getting what’s coming for you_ type of looks towards Yuuri, “when did you meet, things like that.”

While her smile is sweet, Yuuri feels each word pierce him like an arrow.

“Oh, well.” Viktor clears his throat, and Yuuri is glad he can’t see his face right now. “It’s been a bit over four years, isn’t that right? We met at the Four Continents.”

Yuuko hums, and Yuuri tries to hide lower in his seat.

“Well, I’ve seen you on instagram,” she says, smiling again. “Of course, Minako told us now about how you studied under her rival, but…”

‘Yuuko, please. We’re not– ‘ Yuuri has to swallow, leaning forwards between the seats so he doesn’t have to say it too loud. ‘We’re not precisely _official_ yet, okay?’

‘What are you talking about? Did I or did I not see him carry you bridal style on international television?’

‘That’s-!’

When Yuuri glances at Viktor, all he gets is a tiny smile, as if even Viktor is a little unsure about things right now.

‘We just need to… talk about things, before you go announcing stuff to my parents.’

Yuuko looks surprised, changing lanes quietly for a few seconds.

‘But Yuuri… they already think you’re getting married?’

He stares at her, mouth gaping wide. No wonder Mari asked if they wanted a shared room. More importantly – why would they think Yuuri would announce a marriage before even announcing a relationship?!

As if all the air got punched out of his lungs, Yuuri sags. Is this his punishment for wishing his family would assume they were together and Viktor wouldn’t deny it?

“Why would they think that…” he groans, biting his tongue when Viktor gives him a strange look. “S-sorry, Viktor, it’s nothing, just, my parents can get a little… overboard sometimes.”

“They’re just happy for you,” Yuuko snorts, but it does nothing to stop Yuuri’s head from spinning.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Viktor says, eyes flickering between them in concern. “So… Yuuko, you used to compete?”

It’s a very obvious attempt at changing the subject, but Yuuri appreciates it immensely. Yuuko seems to get the hint, because she starts to tell Viktor about their times training together, which is – while sometimes embarrassing – a safe subject. Yuuri doesn’t know what he’s going to do about his family though. He _really_ should have had this talk with Viktor earlier but, what was he supposed to say? If Viktor only sees him as a friend it would be a bit awkward, for sure. A _lot_ awkward, probably.

When he glances to the side, Yuri is watching him with an unreadable expression, his eyebrows knitting together when he notices Yuuri’s eyes on him. He doesn’t say anything, however, and the rest of the trip passes without any further incident. Perhaps Yuuko decided to leave it be once she understood that things aren’t all sorted out between them.

As they close in on Hasetsu, familiar scenery passing by, Yuuri’s anxious thoughts give way to the comfort of being _home_. For a while he can concentrate on that feeling, pointing things out to Yuri through the windows. All things considered, he _is_ grateful to be back. There’s a certain calmness over his home town that only seemed to increase as people left, and business slowed down. No one is in much of a hurry, especially in late November when no tourist would consider visiting. Even though he’d missed it, had been thinking about going home, seeing the outskirts of Hasetsu for the first time in years makes his throat close up with emotion.

“It hasn’t changed much,” Yuuko says, maneuvering familiar streets. “Though, they do update the posters of you at the train station every year.”

“The _what_?!”

She grins at him, and Yuuri buries his face in his hands.

“Hasetsu’s pride and joy has finally returned!”

“Posters?” Viktor asks, because of course he would ask. “I’d like to see them.”

“Let’s _not_.”

“But Yuuri, that’s amazing!”

“I want to see!” Yuri pipes up, and Yuuri knows there will be no escape.

“As long as there’s not a welcome party,” he sighs, cringing when Yuuko’s silence is too telling. “Yuuko, please tell me there’s not a welcome party?”

“Well, not tonight!” she says, which is at least marginally relieving. “I think.”

“Yuuko!”

“And it’s _Yuu-chan_ , Yuuri! Honestly, it’s like we were never friends at all…”

As they pull up on the street leading to his parents’ onsen, Yuuri’s palms start to sweat again. Rather than worry about a party, he’s not looking forward to try and explain the past weekend. And Minako was always so good at drawing the truth out of him…

He swallows thickly, trying to breathe slowly as he leans his forehead against the window pane. Everything outside is achingly familiar, and it’s hard to believe it’s been almost five years. As a kid, he never thought he’d leave. As long as he had the ice, his family, and the comfort of hot baths at the end of a long day he didn’t see any need to put Hasetsu behind himself. It wasn’t until figure skating became a real option that he started to think about it.

And now he’s coming back, with so much attention on him in national media, returning to this sleepy town where he used to pass the same convenience store every day and debate over going in for a snack or not, seeing the same people doing the same things over and over. He had classmates bragging about leaving once they graduated, going to university in an actual city, somewhere that _counted_. They’d all been so surprised when Yuuri announced he was moving to America, of all places. The quiet kid who only ever skated, the loner with no friends in class. Not that anyone bullied him, or anything, they just didn’t notice him much.

Well, not until that time in their last year when there had been a sudden downpour during gym class, and Yuuri, determined to finish the laps required, had merely folded his glasses in one hand, pushed his hair back and ignored his oversized t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to his chest. Someone had realized he’d won a pretty important figure skating competition, and all of a sudden there were _confessions_.

God, he hopes he won’t run into any of those people while he’s here. He’d stammered out each time that there was already someone he liked (his celebrity crush, but they didn’t need to know that) and eventually he just started running away when he noticed anyone trying to corner him. _Please don’t let Mari tell Viktor about that…_

“Here we are!” Yuuko happily announces, parking the car next to his family’s delivery van. “Yutopia Akatsuki! Home of Katsuki Yuuri, figure skating legend, Japan’s ace-”

“Would you stop that?!”

Yuuko’s laugh is obnoxious, but she thankfully relents.

“It looks wonderful,” Viktor says, peeking out the windows as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “What a lovely place to grow up!”

Yuri is already out of the car, running up towards the entrance before either of the adults have a chance to follow.

“Aww, he’s so excited,” Yuuko coos, grinning at Viktor as they all step outside. “My girls are so eager to meet him, you know? They’re big fans.”

“They are?” Viktor looks happy to find out. “Maybe they can be friends!”

“They would love to,” she reassures him, then turns to Yuuri. “You two are fine with the bags, right? I’ll go make sure they don’t run him over.”

“Oh, sure…”

She throws the keys to him, then jogs towards the entrance. Viktor looks at him expectantly, and Yuuri grips the keys tight, walking behind the car to open the trunk. Somehow, being alone with Viktor instantly triples his heart rate. This is his chance to say something, isn’t it? But _what_ , is the question. Please be my boyfriend? Sorry if my parents seem to assume we’re dating? He should probably apologize for a lot of things in advance, but his tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of his mouth, his arms feeling weak as they reach for Viktor’s suitcase.

“I can take it,” Viktor’s voice says from right behind him, and Yuuri almost hits his head against the door above him.

Wordlessly he steps aside, allowing Viktor to reach for the bag. To his surprise, Viktor pauses with one hand on the suitcase’s handle, tilting his body to look up at him.

“Yuuri?” he asks, straightening up again. “I just wanted to…”

Heart thumping rapidly in his chest, Yuuri stays as still as possible as Viktor steps into his personal space, gloved hand reaching for Yuuri’s.

“Wanted to…?” he repeats when Viktor only stares at him, voice weak much like his knees.

Up close, Viktor isn’t just an attractive man – he’s stunning. His pale hair looks so soft, fanning over one side of his face. His eyes, framed by long lashes, hold Yuuri captive. His breaths come out in little puffs of smoke, the cold evening air wrapping around them, sunset lighting up Viktor’s face and the sweet smile adorning it.

Despite the cold, Yuuri feels like he’s burning up inside.

“I’m not sure when we’ll get another opportunity to be alone,” Viktor says, gently squeezing his hand. “Though, of course, I’m very excited about meeting your family.”

Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. All he knows is that Viktor is so _close_ , the leather of his glove smooth against Yuuri’s skin as he lifts his free hand to caress his jawline.

“I just want you to know that it means a lot to me, to _us_ ,” Viktor continues, hand now cupping Yuuri’s cheek. “Thank you, for inviting us.”

“Oh.” Yuuri can’t look away, breath hitching as Viktor moves closer, tongue darting out to wet his lips as Viktor’s nose nudges his. “That’s- I mean- Of _course_ you’re invited.”

Viktor smiles, then, sliding his fingers into Yuuri’s hair. With a sigh, Yuuri relaxes into the touch, eyelids fluttering as Viktor presses their foreheads together.

“ _Yuuri_.”

His voice takes on a deeper tone, _rougher_ , somehow. It fills Yuuri’s chest with want, with the faint memories of Viktor’s lips on his, and he clings to the back of Viktor’s coat with the hand not already secured in Viktor’s grip.

“Yes?”

Viktor’s lips are warm as they softly brush his cheek, and it takes all over Yuuri’s willpower not to bury his face in Viktor’s cashmere scarf. When they reach his ear he shivers, melting into Viktor’s arms with a small exhale.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words are murmured, intimate, meant for Yuuri’s ears alone. The heat building up in his chest ignites, consumes him with fire running through his veins, an almost wild desperation emptying his lungs of air. He can’t speak, heart slamming against his ribs, and if this is how he feels by the mere suggestion of a kiss, Yuuri fears what asking for more will feel like.

He presses closer, nods into Viktor’s neck. Viktor doesn’t need to ask. Anything he wants, Yuuri will give tenfold. He almost wishes he _didn’t_ ask, just so he wouldn’t need to feel so overwhelmed by how much he wants it.

When Viktor’s hand slips from his he almost protests, but Viktor only leans back in order to cradle his face in both hands, the blue of his eyes boring into Yuuri until he forgets his own name.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” Viktor whispers, and finally, _finally_ , his mouth closes over Yuuri’s.

Despite expecting it, Yuuri’s entire plane of existence seems to falter. Viktor’s hands are the only thing keeping him steady, his lips dragging paths of fireworks along Yuuri’s until he trembles around a soft moan. It makes Viktor hold him tighter, makes him suck Yuuri’s bottom lip into his mouth and _oh_ , Yuuri has to throw his arms around Viktor’s neck in order not to collapse.

He pushes closer, pulls Viktor greedily against him. The touch of their mouths feels electric, the slow slide of Viktor’s tongue along the seam of his parted lips sending jolts of pleasure through his limbs. He’s been wanting this, _needing_ it, more than he dared to admit. Kissing Viktor is a better adrenaline high than winning gold ever was, and when Viktor tilts his head to delve his tongue inside Yuuri’s mouth, it’s all he can do not to moan obscenely loud.

Viktor holds him with the same desperation Yuuri feels, fingers twisting in the hairs at his nape, thumbs caressing Yuuri’s cheekbones. It’s wet and hot and Yuuri wants to push him into the trunk of the car and climb in after him, wants to bite his lips until they bruise and swell, wants to– 

When Viktor makes a choked noise in the back of his throat as he sucks on his tongue, Yuuri almost goes through with his half-formed plan. He’d thought he could handle this, that he was fine being friends, that it didn’t bother him that much to introduce Viktor to his family as his _choreographer_.

He was wrong.

And it’s fitting, in a way, that Yuuri has wanted him for so many years and yet, their first proper kiss is outside his childhood home, his family waiting inside for that proper introduction.

Viktor parts their lips, just enough to draw in a shaky breath. He still holds Yuuri close, his breaths warm as they wash over Yuuri’s mouth.

“I know we should probably go inside, but…” he says, then kisses Yuuri again, short and sweet. “This is nicer.”

“It is,” Yuuri exhales, and Viktor smiles, and then they’re laughing breathlessly against each other.

Yuuri buries his face in Viktor’s scarf like he wanted earlier, muffling his laughter in the soft fabric. He feels light, buzzing with happiness. How could he get so lucky, to meet Viktor?

“Mm, let’s not keep them waiting, solnyshko,” Viktor mumbles into his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple before reluctantly pushing away.

The air feels much colder without Viktor’s touch, and Yuuri isn’t sure if the shiver he feels is due to the drop in temperature or the tingling sensation lingering on his lips.

“Cold?” Viktor asks, pulling off his gloves even as Yuuri shakes his head. “Here, take these!”

“I’m fine,” he protests, but Viktor looks at him with such a sad expression that he has to relent, holding a hand out while helpless against the blush spreading over his cheeks.

Rather than simply hand him the gloves, Viktor, face brightening up, carefully offers them up for Yuuri to stick his hands into.

They’re incredibly soft on the inside, warm from Viktor’s body heat.

“Better?” Viktor still holds one of his hands, raising it to his lips to kiss the back of it, eyes sparkling with something Yuuri is afraid to name.

“Yeah,” he says, marveling at how Viktor can put him at ease with such little effort. “Much better.”

He feels the last bits of tension from the weekend melt away, feels the worry over introducing Viktor disappear like a wisp of smoke when he smiles at him. So what if his family looks at him and thinks he’s head over heels for this man?

It’s only the truth, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Let's see what kind of shenanigans they can come up with while in Hasetsu... 
> 
> We've passed the halfway mark of this story, though that doesn't mean I know exactly how long it'll become. Let's just have fun and see where we end up lol.
> 
> If there's anything you'd like to see in this story, or something you're curious about, feel free to let me know! As for the next chapter... I wonder if Yuuri and Viktor will manage to find some time alone for each other? (〃▽〃)♡


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a nice thought. Viktor, supposed to be where Yuuri is, because that’s where he wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years...
> 
> Sorry about that *sweats* 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the others but it worked out that way. Idk if the onsen really has overnight guests or not, but why not. 
> 
> Now with extra Mari!
> 
> （ﾉ｡≧◇≦）ﾉ *throws chapter at you*
> 
> (Keep an eye out bc i'll be posting a smutty oneshot for yuuri's bday sometime this week)

Mari has a great view of the driveway from the second floor. A little _too_ great, maybe. Watching her baby brother swapping saliva with his boyfriend was never high on her wish list, but at least now she has all the confirmation she needs.

And perfect material to tease him with, too.

There’s a commotion downstairs, and Mari tears her eyes off Yuuri and Viktor being lovey-dovey with a sigh. The triplets are already here, waiting for their so called uncle’s arrival, and Mari had spent most of the time avoiding them. As cute as they are she’s had enough of their questions about when, _exactly_ , the others would be here and whether or not they could plan their wedding for them.

She sure admires Yuuko and Nishigori, dealing with them every day.

“Mari!” her mother calls up the stairs, “hurry hurry, they’re here!”

Glancing out the window again it seems Yuuri is finally heading inside, boyfriend in tow. As expected of Yuuri, bringing home a flashy foreigner… He always carried dreams too big for this town.

Shaking her head she can’t help but smile, slowly making her way towards the front entrance.  They don’t seem like strangers, Viktor and his son. Even though Yuuri never introduced them at competitions or told her in so many words, she’d been able to figure out before that they were somehow close to him. She’s going to enjoy squeezing out the story of how they started dating…

The entrance hall is a mess of Japanese and English, the triplets dancing in a ring around little Yuri despite Yuuko’s yelling at them to calm down. Mari leans against a wall, keeping her distance for now.  She watches her mother fuss over them, Yuuri translating back and forth. Minako keeps her arms crossed, wary at first, but Yuuri’s smile as he introduces Viktor is so radiant that even Mari feels a little warm.

He’s glowing; eyes sparkling as he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a small embarrassed laugh. Such a difference from the Yuuri that left home after high school, or the Yuuri at competitions. She doesn’t miss the way Viktor’s hand finds the small of Yuuri’s back as they come inside properly, the sweet look Yuuri gives him when he compliments the interior. Hopefully, prolonged exposure to them won’t be contagious.

Well, it’s not like it isn’t cute. Yuuri puts a hand on little Yuri’s shoulder, steering him towards the dining room. There’s too many of them to fit in the private room where they usually eat, but Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind the attention. Odd, really. She catches his eyes just before they disappear through the doorway, Yuuri pausing when she raises an eyebrow. He seems nervous for a moment, gaze flickering between the dining room and her, before he excuses himself and heads towards her.

“Welcome back,” she greets him, and even though Viktor isn’t near, Yuuri can’t quite wipe off the love struck expression from his face. “I didn’t really expect you to bring a husband and child the first time you visit…”

“ _What,”_ Yuuri shrieks, waving his hands frantically in front of himself. “That’s not- I’m not- Mari, don’t tease me like that…”

He slumps, clutching at his chest.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think when you’re even matching clothes?”

“It was Yuri’s idea!”

“And?”

She hides a grin, Yuuri making gurgling noises, pulling at the strings to his hoodie.  

“It’s just really sudden,” Yuuri confesses, rubbing at his neck instead. “I’m not even sure if we’re dating.”

“Hm. You better be dating him if he kisses you like that.”

It has the desired effect, Yuuri jumping high with another shriek.

“You- You saw us?! I don’t- I mean that was- I can’t believe you watched us!”

Shrugging, Mari pats his shoulder.

“You look happy, Yuuri. I’ll let it go for now.”

“Uh… thanks? I guess?”

“Minako is the one you should worry about.”

Yuuri blanches, groaning before hiding his face in his hands. It always was too easy to mess with him, his reactions so exaggerated. She hopes Viktor doesn’t take advantage of it too much.

“He _does_ make you happy, right? I don’t want to have to fight him like in one of those movies.”

“What movies? Mari, have you been watching historical dramas again? You said they were lame.”

“Did not.”

“You did, I remember! It was my last year in high school, right after summer break. It was because the one you were watching had that war breaking out and you said-“

“Okay, okay! No one needs to remember that! Let’s go say hi to your future husband instead.”

She ushers him towards the dining room, poking at him when he objects.

“Just _don’t_ call him that in English,” Yuuri pleads, puppy eyes on full effect even after all these years.

No wonder he’s Hasetsu’s golden boy. No one can resist such a cute face, not even the twenty-three year old version of it.

“Ah, happy birthday, by the way.”

She purposely forgets to mention the decorations they set up this morning, holding back a grin as they step inside and Yuuri’s face turns from pleading to long-suffering in the span of two seconds.

“Oh no,” he breathes, as the triplets shoot party poppers at him.

There are banners, garlands, a big cake on one of the tables. His trophy case is open, all the medals and trophies he’d sent home polished until they gleam. There’s even a big poster, from his free skate at the Olympics.

“You shouldn’t have,” he sighs, as everyone – his parents, Yuuko and her family, several guests at the inn – break out in cheers.

“Oh, it was nothing.”

“No, you literally shouldn’t have,” he mutters, Yuuko pulling him towards the cake to be surrounded by the people gathered there for him. “You said there wouldn’t be a welcome party!” he hisses at Yuuko, who smiles with a little bit of guilt.

“Because it’s a _birthday_ party!”

Mari slips into the kitchen, helping her dad fill bowls with katsudon. She doesn’t hold anything against Yuuri for taking this long to visit, but it’s nice to have him home.

“What a nice boy, hm? That Viktor,” her father says, scooping up rice.

“Seems so.”

“I’ll make his bowl extra large.”

Mari hides a smile, pretending to rearrange her headband. Everyone is so excited for Yuuri…

He’s just going to have to deal with it.

♡♡♡

Viktor can’t stop smiling. He tried, because his cheeks started hurting a bit but it ended up a useless attempt. It takes him a while to understand what he’s feeling, because of course he’s ecstatic that Yuuri wanted to kiss him – and what a wonderful kiss, too. But there’s something more, something about being surrounded by Yuuri’s friends and family. It’s some kind of warmth, a coziness that spreads from his toes throughout his body, keeps the smile on his face even as Yuuri’s attention is constantly stolen by others.

He and Yuri sit at one of the low tables, stomachs filled with katsudon and cake, hands wrapped around steaming mugs of tea. There’s still an air of celebration in the room, Yuuri speaking rapid Japanese with Yuuko and her husband, their kids conspiring about something in a corner. Yuri eyes them warily, but Viktor can see him checking twitter now and then to see how the post they made about him is doing.

It’s been a bit of a crazy week, honestly. He crammed a _lot_ of work before they left for Nagano, and all the excitement of the past days is beginning to wear on him for real. Even so he’s reluctant to call it a night, telling himself it’s still too early to be polite. Unfortunately, he still has a lot of work to do, a few hours for sure. Viktor really hates staying up late for work, preferring to get up early instead, but he _really_ needs to get some things done tonight.

The funny thing is, he doesn’t feel stressed about it at all. He’s too busy enjoying being surrounded by Yuuri’s life, getting a glimpse into what his past must have looked like. While Viktor doesn’t think he has a bad relationship with his parents, Yuuri’s family is in stark contrast to what he’s used to. Everything is just so… lighthearted, somehow. Easy.

It’s loud and lively and Viktor feels welcomed, feels like he’s part of it.

“Ah, Vicchan, Yuri-kun, is it good?”

Yuuri’s mother walks by them, pauses to nod at the teacups in their hands. She’s much shorter than Yuuri and full of happy energy, so excited to see her son come home, and-

She calls him _Vicchan_.

“I love it!” he says, just like he said about the food and the cake, and Hiroko beams at them both.

Viktor feels fuzzy inside, like he’s a teddy bear, soft inside and out. Once she moves away Yuri leans in, checks to make sure she isn’t looking, and confesses the truth.

“It tastes like crap,” he says, giving his green tea a mourning look.

“I like it,” Viktor disagrees, and Yuri pouts. “She did offer you hot chocolate instead.”

“Ugh.”

Yuri groans, forcing himself to take a sip, immediately wincing afterwards.

“Not your thing?”

It’s Mari, and Viktor definitely doesn’t feel his heart shiver in fear. Yuuri’s sister looks entirely different from him, her hair dyed blond except for the roots, several earrings adorning her earlobes. Where Yuuri is expressive she’s unnervingly calm, at least from what he’s seen of her so far, and Viktor has this feeling she can read his mind.

Yuri blushes, mumbling something under his breath. Even though there’s no way she can hear what it is she grins, picking up his mug with a small ‘ha’. Then she leaves, and Viktor lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“She’s too scary,” Yuri whispers, and Viktor smiles weakly.

He’s nervous, for some reason. Yuuri’s parents are so heartwarmingly cheerful that there wasn’t time to feel anything but excited to meet them, but Mari hasn’t really talked to them yet. He wants her to like them. He really, desperately, wants Yuuri’s family to like them.

When Mari comes back a minute later she’s carrying a green can of soda instead, placing it on the table in front of Yuri and flicking her hand at it when he only looks at it curiously.

“Melon soda,” she says, plopping down next to Viktor. “It’s better than tea, maybe.”

Then she turns to Viktor, tilting her head in thought.

“You look lonely,” she tells him matter-of-fact, before her mouth twitches in amusement. “Because my brother is over there, right?”

Oh god. Yuri snorts into his now opened drink, and Viktor can’t help the way his cheeks heat up because she looks like she _knows_.

It’s a critical hit, and now Viktor understands why Yuuri only described Mari as ‘well, she’s my big sister so…’

 “I,” he starts, not sure how to recover from this.

“It’s okay.” She waves it off, pulls her phone out of a pocket to check something quick. “Look at this.”

She aims the phone at him, and Viktor leans closer, wholly unprepared for the gift that is Yuuri Katsuki as a small child, dressed in spandex and standing at the barre with a look of outmost concentration on his cute little face.

“I think I just died,” he blurts out, and Mari looks smug.

“I have more,” she says, but retracts her phone and slips it into her pocket again. “But you need Yuuri’s permission.”

Someone makes a dying whale noise, and Viktor is ashamed to say it was him.

He has _needs_ , okay?

“I bet Yuuri would show _me_ ,” Yuri brags, and Viktor huffs at him.

It might be true, but only because Yura is impossible to refuse when he wants something. Of course, Yuuri picks that moment to come over, staring Mari down in adorable suspicion.

He says something in Japanese that Viktor thinks sounds a little accusing, but Mari only smiles innocently.

“Hi,” Yuuri tells them like an afterthought as he sits down beside Yuri, folding his legs. “I hope you’re not bored.”

Viktor shakes his head, heart speeding up simply from Yuuri’s proximity. It has Yuuri’s shoulders relaxing minutely, but how could Viktor be bored by this? Everyone is so nice, and it’s only natural that Yuuri would be busy when he hasn’t been home in years.

“This place is amazing,” he says, leaning over the table towards Yuuri. “And you have to show us your trophies later!”

Yuri perks up at this, giving Yuuri an expectant look. For some reason Mari snickers, Yuuri sending her a _look_.

“We’ll be up all night if you do,” she points out, Yuuri blushing furiously even though Viktor thinks he should be the opposite of embarrassed for such a thing.

“Maybe later,” he mumbles, squirming a little. “Did you like the food, Yuri?”

“Yes!” Yuri looks like he still can’t believe sometimes that Yuuri talks to him. Viktor can relate.

“It’s my favorite food, I used to eat it whenever I won something when I still lived at home.”

“I know,” Yuri blurts out, clutching at his can of soda. “It tasted even better than you described it in interviews!”

It has Mari commenting in Japanese again, but Yuuri smiles. Heart fluttering in his chest, Viktor feels that warmth simmering inside him again. Everything just feels _right_ , somehow. Like all his life choices led up to this point, sitting in the dining room of Yuuri’s childhood home, talking about his favorite things. And even though he wants to be alone with Yuuri again, wants to hold him in his arms and kiss him until they’re out of breath, this is nice, too.

To think he’ll spend over a week like this…

“ _Yuu_ -ri,” he says, pleased when Yuuri’s eyes dart to him. “You can give us a tour later?”

“Of- of course.”

Yuuri scratches at his cheek, and Viktor shifts a little, dares to stretch one leg out underneath the table until his foot touches Yuuri’s leg. It’s cute how Yuuri startles, surprise turning into a blush, then biting his lip against a smile. Viktor wants to touch him _more_ , wants to hold his hand, feel that smile against his shoulder. He wants to tell Yuuri how happy he is to be here, make sure he understands what it means to them. Sure, he already thanked Yuuri earlier by the car, but it wasn’t _enough_.

When Yuuri pushes his leg a little forwards, lets his foot bump into Viktor’s, he feels like his heart might explode.

Oh.

Viktor knows what it is he’s feeling now, this warmth that comes from being surrounded by Yuuri’s family, Yuuri’s life.

It’s love.

♡♡♡

Yuuri is tired. Exhausted, really, which isn’t weird considering the competition he just came out of. He should fall into bed and sleep for a week, and yet sleep is the last thing on his mind. There’s a buzzing in his body, keeping him up, thoughts spinning in a loop inside his head.

Viktor is in the room next to his, and Yuuri can’t stop thinking about it.

When the celebrations had finally died out he’d insisted on helping his parents clean up a bit, while Mari had taken it upon herself to show Viktor and Yuri their room. In hindsight he probably should have avoided being alone with his parents while so tired, because they kept saying things like _we’re so happy for you_ and _you should teach Yuri-kun some Japanese so he can call us grandma and grandpa!_

Yuuri hadn’t told them to stop.

He kind of regrets it now, because he and Viktor aren’t official, haven’t talked about where they’re taking this thing between them. It’s better if they _don’t_ talk, because then Yuuri won’t have to explain anything to his family. He’ll just let them assume and hope they’ll be polite enough not to ask him anything when Viktor is around.

The other reason he doesn’t want to ask is because he doesn’t want Viktor to say that it’s just a casual thing for him. He can’t be certain Viktor doesn’t think that, even if everything Viktor does and says makes Yuuri feel like it’s more.

Viktor makes Yuuri _want_ more, and he’s not sure how to deal with it.

Seeing Viktor and Yuri interact with his family made him wonder about the future. Yuuri had thought about retirement, but he hadn’t thought of pursuing family life, exactly. It’s too soon to think about it, but Yuuri sits wide awake in bed, tapping at his phone without really looking.

His room looks almost the same as when he left it, familiar and strange at the same time. It feels like a lifetime ago that he said goodbye to his posters of Stéphane Lambiel, swept his eyes over everything he’d be leaving behind one last time. He’d been scared but determined, faced with a new chapter in his life.

Has he reached a similar point, now? He wishes he could text Phichit, but he’s still on the plane taking him back to Detroit. Up until yesterday Yuuri was supposed to go with him, yet another competition behind him, Viktor and Yuri in Russia instead of here, with him.

He needs to be the best possible Yuuri now. Viktor is taking time off work, going out of his way to do Yuuri a favor, and while he might do it because he _likes_ Yuuri, all it means is that Yuuri has to be better. No more depressive slump, no more thoughts of retirement. This is a chance to come back from all that, to prove to himself that this isn’t how his competitive career will end.

Outside, the door to Viktor and Yuri’s room clicks open. Footsteps too heavy to be Yuri’s walk down the corridor, away from Yuuri’s room. Maybe Viktor just needs a trip to the bathroom. He crushes the disappointment clogging up his throat, because why would Viktor knock on his door? It’s late and they’re tired and Yuuri really needs to sleep.

But Yuuri wants to see him, wants Viktor to want to see him, even late at night.

He listens for Viktor’s steps to return, but when fifteen minutes have passed and all he’s heard is silence, Yuuri drops his phone on the bed and grabs an old sweater to pull over his t-shirt, leaving his glasses on the desk. As quietly as he can he tiptoes past the old banquet room that now serves as a makeshift guest room, because apparently Mari didn’t think it was nice to keep Viktor and Yuri with the other guests when they were there with Yuuri. It’s dark in the stairway, but downstairs there are always a few lights turned on. Yuuri hopes Viktor didn’t decide to try out the baths, because then he’ll walk in on Viktor naked.

Or maybe he hopes a _little_ bit, but there are light tapping noises coming from the dining hall when he walks by that area first, and a peek inside shows Viktor at one of the tables, laptop illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room.

“You could turn on the lights,” he says, and Viktor startles badly.

“Wow, Yuuri! You scared me!”

He hovers in the doorway for a moment, then slips inside the room, leaving the lights off for now. Viktor scoots over to one side of the table, giving Yuuri room to sink down next to him.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri squints at what might be Russian on the screen.

“Shouldn’t you?” he shoots back, wondering why Viktor is awake and replying to emails.

“I had some work to do.”

Viktor smiles, but he looks tired. Yuuri fiddles with his sleeves, unsure of what to say. He should have brought his phone, just for something to do while Viktor works. Not that he should stay, because he _should_ be asleep.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he offers, and Viktor pushes his computer away, turns to face Yuuri. “Sorry, I should let you work in peace.”

But Viktor reaches a hand out, coaxing one of Yuuri’s out of his sleeve. He twines their fingers loosely, runs his thumb along Yuuri’s fingertips until he shivers.

“I’d rather talk to you,” Viktor says, and Yuuri doesn’t know what to say to that.

His sweater feels too warm all of a sudden, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He might have left his glasses in his room, but Viktor is close enough that it doesn’t matter. It’s too easy to see the warmth in Viktor’s eyes, too hard to do more than glance at him. Yuuri isn’t used to this. There wasn’t ever really time for things like relationships, even if he went on a couple dates during his time in Detroit. He had enough to do, with skating and studying, and he didn’t want to lose focus too much.

With Viktor it’s different. Viktor makes him _more_ focused, somehow, makes him want to work harder, to improve.

“Yuuri.”

Viktor’s tone is soft, his eyes catching Yuuri, holding him until he’s helplessly flustered just from hearing his name.

“Yes?”

It’s more an intake of breath than a question, but Viktor squeezes his fingers and pulls his hand closer, tugging gently until Yuuri follows. He glances down as Viktor’s long legs unfold, leaving space for Yuuri to settle between them. First he sits on his bent legs, tense, until Viktor pouts and sneaks an arm around his waist. Yuuri finds himself pulled against Viktor’s chest, breath catching in his throat as Viktor arranges him comfortably.

“Mm, this is better,” Viktor mumbles, the words muffled when he presses his mouth to the top of Yuuri’s head. “Comfortable?”

Yuuri nods, cheeks burning. Viktor’s scent is strong this close, Yuuri’s face cuddled into the crook of his neck. He feels lightheaded, out of breath. Viktor seems content to simply sit like this, holding Yuuri in his arms, and it’s not like Yuuri would want him to stop.

Ever.

“You can’t work like this though…”

He hates himself a little for pointing it out, but Viktor hums in thought before awkwardly turning them around, keeping Yuuri in position the whole time. Eventually they manage to find something that works, Viktor reaching his laptop around him. Yuuri isn’t entirely sure it’s comfortable for Viktor, having to hold Yuuri’s weight up, but if Viktor won’t complain then Yuuri won’t, either.

“Somehow, I feel much more energized now!” Viktor chirps, typing out a lengthy reply while Yuuri plays with a string to the cat-ear hoodie Viktor still wears. “It must be a secret power of yours, Yuuri.”

“I doubt it,” he snorts, but Viktor tilts his head down to brush his lips over Yuuri’s hair and his heart almost stops. “Are you sure I’m not distracting you?”

“Absolutely not.”

There’s no point arguing, really. Yuuri tries to breathe slowly, listening to the tap-tap-tap of Viktor’s fingers on the keyboard. He keeps himself entertained by tying and untying knots on the string, still nowhere near sleepy. It’s better than lying alone in bed staring at the ceiling, for sure. Sometimes Viktor mutters under his breath, mostly in Russian. He likes the way his voice sounds in his own language, likes that Viktor feels relaxed enough to keep Yuuri with him. It feels less like Yuuri accidentally brought him here, and more like Viktor is here because this is where he’s supposed to be.

It’s a nice thought. Viktor, supposed to be where Yuuri is, because that’s where he wants to be.

He yawns after a while, rubbing at his face. Maybe he’s getting a tiny bit sleepy, eyelids growing heavier. Viktor pauses, tilting his head to try and peek at Yuuri’s face.

“Bedtime, solnyshko?”

Yuuri grumbles at him, burying his face in Viktor’s chest. The pet name has his whole face red, and Viktor pokes at his cheek.

“I still have some work left, but you should sleep. You’re the one who needs to be in good shape tomorrow.”

“Oh no…” Yuuri knows he’s going to regret this in the morning when he wraps his arms around Viktor’s back, unwilling to leave.

It’s embarrassing, but Yuuri feels too good to let go. Viktor is warm and smells so good, and it’s such a novel feeling to have someone’s arms around him for no other reason than enjoying it. Of course Viktor laughs softly at him, lifting a hand to brush some hair off Yuuri’s face.

“Maybe you _are_ a distraction,” he teases, fingertips finding purchase underneath Yuuri’s chin to raise his head. “Not that I mind. Please distract me all you want~”

Yuuri shouldn’t look at Viktor’s mouth, and yet that’s precisely where his gaze falls, tracing the outline of his sweet smile.

He shouldn’t hope for a kiss, and yet-

“Yuuri…”

Viktor’s thumb finds his lower lip, dragging back and forth. He’s so close that Yuuri can see his lashes, face illuminated by the computer screen. His heart has jumped into his throat, lips parting of their own volition. He wants Viktor to kiss him, wants to drown in his taste, wants to forget about all the work he has to do before the final.

Their noses touch, Viktor’s breath warm as it washes over his mouth. Yuuri must be wearing too much because his sweater almost itches against his skin, becoming worse when Viktor’s fingers trail down his jaw and neck, curls around the hem by his throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Viktor whispers, as if Yuuri isn’t in ratty old sleepwear, lacking sleep and proper skincare.  

Still, when Viktor says it like that, draws out shivers up along his spine, Yuuri _feels_ like he could be beautiful even now, off the ice.

Yuuri wants to tell him no, _Viktor_ is the beautiful one, sparkling and soft and looking at Yuuri like he’s irresistible. He wants Viktor to know how tightly he holds Yuuri’s heart, but how? How can he even begin to explain the things that Viktor makes him feel, just by being Viktor?

Just by existing, here, for Yuuri to touch and lean against, offering simple comfort when he can’t sleep.

It’s too much, to have Viktor look at him like this, when Yuuri doesn’t know what to offer in return.

He sucks in a breath, feels it hitch in his throat. If Viktor would just _do_ something, instead of letting Yuuri burn to ashes from the inside out, held still by Viktor’s eyes and touch.

“You’re so tense,” Viktor breaks the silence with, frowning as he pulls back a little. “I didn’t mean to-“

Yuuri grabs the front of his sweater, pulling him down until their teeth clack painfully. Probably not the best move but it gets the point across, because Viktor’s hand finds his cheek, cupping it as his lips glide over Yuuri’s. It makes Yuuri burn even worse, flames licking at his chest and stomach, hands grabbing at Viktor’s hair. Viktor’s arm tightens around his waist, his mouth insistent as he sucks on Yuuri’s lower lip.

It’s different from the kiss behind the car. Yuuri’s lungs struggle for air, his fingers combing through Viktor’s hair before tugging at it, forcing him even closer. He feels frustrated, almost, that he had to wait this long, that Viktor could have kissed him like this years ago and didn’t. There’s a painful squeezing in his chest, and Yuuri opens his mouth, inviting Viktor in.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor all but moans, and then Yuuri pulls his legs up just as Viktor shifts, resulting in a loss of balance that has them toppling over.

He still holds Viktor’s hair, which might be a little painful, but Viktor lands on his forearms above Yuuri, caging him in like in some kind of shoujo manga. Viktor looks surprised first, and Yuuri has time to think _I really like him on top of me_ before he lifts himself up a bit. He’s even more surprised when Yuuri’s hands at the back of his neck keep him from moving much, and maybe Yuuri is going a little overboard but he’s not ready for Viktor to stop kissing him yet.

“Haaa,” Viktor says, swallowing. “We should probably call it a night.”

Yuuri, who’d been busy watching his Adam’s apple move, blinks at this.

“Why?” he asks before he can stop himself, immediately letting go of Viktor and hiding his face in his hands afterwards. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-“

He’s not sure what he didn’t mean, but Viktor slowly sits up again and Yuuri peeks at him through his fingers. Yuuri still wants him, feels cold where Viktor had touched him, tries to drag his mind out of the gutter where it sorts through different fantasies that he could make reality.

“I still have all this work to do…”

Viktor runs a hand through his hair, because Yuuri probably messed it up, and he distracted Viktor even though he wasn’t supposed to.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, stumbling as he gets up on his feet. “I should-“

When Viktor grabs his hand he stops, helpless against the pull that Viktor has on him.

“Just give me a second to finish this up,” Viktor says, and if his voice sounds a little rough Yuuri tries not to let it affect him.

He can’t help it though, heart pounding against his ribs as Viktor types out a frantic line or two before shutting the lid with a snap. He’s still trembling, breaths quick and shallow, thoughts a jumbled mess as Viktor stands. Yuuri wants, but he’s not sure what or how, and Viktor stares at him like he’s not sure either.

 “Yuuri…”

Viktor sounds a little shaken, but it’s dark without the laptop lighting things up and Yuuri hugs himself, wondering if he should have just stayed in his room. When Viktor walks to him he holds his breath, keeps the air in his lungs until Viktor touches his arm.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Viktor says, squeezing his bicep. “I didn’t mean to rush.”

“That’s okay.”

Because it’s dark, Yuuri dares to search for Viktor’s face, lets his fingers trace his cheekbone once he finds it.

“I liked it.”

There’s an audible sound as Viktor inhales, and then he places his hand above Yuuri’s, trapping him against his cheek.

“Even so.” Viktor brings Yuuri’s hand to his mouth, presses a kiss to the middle of his palm. “There will be time later.”

 _Later_. Yuuri doesn’t like waiting, not when Viktor is right in front of him, lips still causing tingles to break out all over Yuuri’s palm.

“If you say so…”

Warm air blows onto his palm as Viktor sighs, muttering something in Russian that Yuuri wishes he would translate. He doesn’t have time to consider what it might mean before Viktor catches him by the waist, pulling him flush against his body.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he tells Yuuri, a hint of amusement to the words. “I just think we got a little caught up in the moment, no?”

In that case, Yuuri wishes to be caught more.

At least he can lean his forehead against Viktor’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth for just a moment longer.

“Yuuri?”

“Yes. I understand.”

He’s not disappointed, but he’s not happy about it either. It’s not like he expected to have mind-blowing sex the moment they were alone, but he’s not sure why Viktor feels the need to be so _restrained_.

“Hmm, I’m not sure you do.”

There are hands cupping his face, Viktor tilting his head back so their eyes can meet. Not that Yuuri sees much, but perhaps it’s the thought that counts.

“I just met your family,” Viktor says, sounding very serious. “I don’t want them thinking I don’t put your health and skating above my attraction to you.”

It’s simultaneously the dumbest and sweetest thing Yuuri has ever heard.

“We don’t have to do _much_ ,” he tries, and then Viktor’s laughing, and Yuuri feels the vibrations through his chest because he’s buried his face there, too embarrassed by his own words. “I can’t believe I said that,” he groans, because Viktor must think he’s some kind of sex addict now when he hasn’t even done much at all before.

Well, it’s not like he had felt the urge to try, when mostly he just wanted Viktor.

Maybe that’s why he’s unable to keep himself in check now, knowing Viktor is interested and actually able to do something about it, should Viktor let him.

“We’ll get there soon enough,” Viktor promises, kissing his temple with a smooching sound. “Okay?”

Yuuri wouldn’t want to do anything to make Viktor uncomfortable. Maybe Mari said something to him? Well, it doesn’t matter, Yuuri knows how to keep his hands to himself. He’s been doing just that for most of his life, anyway.

Then again, he hasn’t been alone at night with _Viktor_ for most of his life.

When Viktor takes his hand, leading him back up the stairs towards their rooms, Yuuri thinks he wouldn’t mind changing that fact.

♡♡♡

Viktor heaves a sigh, leaning against the door once he's closed it. That was too close, and in some ways not close enough. Yes, Viktor wants Yuuri, and yes, he would have loved pleasuring him right then and there in the dining room, but-

He can't shake the feeling that this is Yuuri's childhood home.

Maybe his parents don't mind, maybe they do, but Viktor doesn't want them to think he's only after Yuuri's ass. A lovely ass, certainly, but Viktor wants more than that. It's a bit strange even to himself, when he was so adamant on seducing Yuuri before. Possibly, Viktor is a sap and wants Yuuri's heart, first.

Yuuri didn't make it easy to say no, and Viktor has a feeling his dick is in mourning now. He just really wants Yuuri's family to like him, and well, he's pretty sure that neither he nor Yuuri are discreet enough to act natural tomorrow morning if they end up in bed together. Besides, who knows how thin the walls are. Viktor doesn't want to hold back.

It's a miracle he managed to stay clear-headed, honestly. Yuuri, with his sleepy-soft hair and glittering eyes is a danger to mankind. A danger to Viktor, specifically.

He still has work to do...

There's no way he'll get anything done now. Hopefully Lilia will forgive him if he produces nothing useful while he's here - otherwise he'll just resign and ask Yuuri if he can be his trophy husband. Not a bad option at all...

Yuri stirs in his futon, and Viktor is brought out of his daydream. Sleep. Right. Yuuri needs him in top condition tomorrow, and Viktor doesn't want to disappoint. They're supposed to be in Minako's studio first thing in the morning, and while Minako hadn't seemed to dislike him, he can tell she’s just as picky with her students as Lilia.

Well. Viktor won’t mind showing off a little.

He sits down on the futon Mari laid out for him earlier, touches his lips with a wistful smile. Viktor had opted to kiss Yuuri’s forehead when they said goodnight, because Viktor is weak and Yuuri looked too lonely before closing the door.

He’d known the upcoming week would be tough, trying to battle time with two full programs on the line. But this? Part of Viktor wants to go back to Yuuri’s room, just knock and tell Yuuri he can do whatever he wants, for however long he wants it.

The other part, the reasonable and oh so sappy one, tells Viktor he made the right choice. If he touches Yuuri now he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop, either, and this is not a honeymoon.

Unfortunately.

Viktor falls asleep to thoughts of taking Yuuri various places, hearts full and rings on their fingers, their whole lives ahead of them.

Until their real honeymoon he’ll just have to live off dreams.

♡♡♡

 

**Grand Prix Final – qualification standings**

 

MEN

Jean-Jacques Leroy – 30 points (1st Cup of China, 1st Skate America)

Christophe Giacometti – 28 points (1st Rostelecom Cup, 2nd NHK Trophy)

Cao Bin – 28 points (1st Skate Canada, 2nd Cup of China)

Yuuri Katsuki – 26 points (1st NHK Trophy, 3rd Skate Canada)

Seung-gil Lee – 26 points (1st Trophée de France, 3rd Rostelecom Cup)

Georgi Popovich – 24 points (2nd Skate America, 3rd NHK Trophy)

 

♡♡♡

 

_[video]_

NHK Trophy – important highlights

Katsuki+ice

2,367 views

 **crispyblades** _This is only Yuuri Katsuki… wtf_

                             _Show all 29 replies_

                             **heymacarona** _Did you even bother to look up Russia’s history on wikipedia??_

                             **noflipsjustaxel** _I’m pretty sure Viktor isn’t related to Anastasia…_

 **Chris on a pole** _I think this video cured me_

 **skaterfan15** _you didn’t add enough phichit??????_

                             **Katsuki+ice** _fite me_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri: I understand  
> [Narrator: He Did Not Understand]
> 
> Anyway skaterfan15 is me lol. One day I'll write a Phichit-centric fic, promise. 
> 
> Sorry again for the long wait, I hope this chapter was fluffy enough to make up for it! And now, will Yuuri survive sexual frustration? Will Viktor get Minako's approval? Will Yurio finally get to skate with his idol? 
> 
> I switched Michele for Seung-gil in the final bc I felt like it. (Actually I forgot Michele was in the final and since he didn't medal at NHK there was just no way for him to reach the GPF... oops)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, all the love for you<333


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirsty Yuuri vs Emotionally Starved Viktor: Round 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~
> 
> The past two months, I've felt like I write and write and never have anything to post. Maybe bc I'm mostly writing on my thesis *cries* 
> 
> The articles at the end are actual real articles I found on google... Anyway, I hope you like the chapter, sorry for the wait!
> 
> I'm currently cat-sitting for my uncle, so I've got one cat on each side of me on the couch... they're so cuuute (=ↀωↀ=)✧ 
> 
> Idk if you watched the olympics but aaahhh what a time to be alive!!

When a heavy weight lands on top of him, right when he’s in that hazy moment between sleep and waking up, Yuuri thinks for a second that it’s Phichit. But Phichit doesn’t speak Russian, nor would he try to suffocate him, and so he draws the only logical conclusion – he’s under attack.

Flailing and desperate to get away he falls over the edge of the bed, legs still tangled in the sheets. He’s too tired for this. Maybe he should just accept his fate… Oh, if only he could go home to Hasetsu and hide from the world forever. Surely a figure skater won’t reward kidnappers a very high ransom?

Wait.

This floor feels familiar, and the weight on his legs has switched to English, telling him to wake _up up up_!

“Yura!”

Yuuri doesn’t need to understand Russian to know that Viktor is scolding Yuri, who, most likely, is the lump on Yuuri’s bed that causes the bed springs to creak ominously. It’s an old bed. He spent a lot of time in his youth quietly sneaking under the covers after staying up too late, after practicing his jumps and balance. Sometimes thinking about other skaters. Most of the time desperately wishing he had his own computer.

He sends a warm thought towards his trusted laptop, too sleepy still to move more than shift his legs, awkwardly untangling himself.

“Wow, Yuuri. Are you okay?”

Viktor kneels in front of him, not blurry enough without Yuuri’s glasses to look anything other than amused. It’s just typical that Viktor would see him like this, a hot mess sprawled on the floor in his childhood room.

“I’m fine,” he says, though it comes out as more of a grunt.

“You have to wake _up_ ,” Yuri groans, feet pushing at Yuuri’s butt.

Such an undignified way to greet the new day. Yuuri hopes it’s all a dream.

“Yuri Nikolaevich Plisetsky,” comes Viktor’s stern voice, followed by frozen silence.

“I’ll go eat breakfast!” Yuri announces a moment later, shuffling off Yuuri’s bed and rushing out of the room, leaving Yuuri to sigh in relief.

“What just happened,” he mumbles weakly, rubbing at his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Viktor apologizes, a bit too cheerfully. “You know how he likes to jump on people.”

“You sound a little too happy about it.”

Viktor grabs his arm, helping him to sit up at least, back leaning against the bed frame.

“Well, it’s rare not to be on the receiving end of it,” he says, settling down next to Yuuri, smile sweet and far too indulgent for the early morning. “Did you sleep well?”

Shrugging, Yuuri closes his eyes so he won’t glare at Viktor. It’s not like he slept terribly (more like he blissfully passed out for once in his life) but there are things better than sleep.

He’s barely managed the thought before it catches up to him, with Viktor sitting _right there_ , all smiles and morning cheer. God, what must he think of Yuuri? An insatiable sex demon maybe, or that Yuuri only wants him for his body. Even now the heat from Viktor’s arm nudging his is enough to make his cheeks burn. He’s about to put some distance between them when Viktor’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Yuuri nose-dives into the crook of Viktor’s neck and decides he’ll stay there for the rest of the day. It’s cozy, warm, smells good… what else could he possibly need? The knitted sweater Viktor’s wearing is so soft, too, inviting Yuuri to sleep just a bit more.

“Are you falling asleep again?”

Viktor laughs quietly, the sound reverberating through his chest and Yuuri can’t help but sigh in happiness.

“Mmm,” he says, too tired to feel shame.

Instead he buries himself closer, turning into Viktor’s side. He’s contemplating grabbing for the duvet to pull over them when Viktor presses a kiss to his hair, followed by pushing him away to see his face.

“ _Yuu_ -ri,” he teases, poking at his nose. “No more sleep, we have to get started on breakfast if we want to make it to Minako’s studio on time.”

“But…” Yuuri can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

 _But I want more kisses and cuddling_.

He clamps his mouth shut, averting his eyes. The memory of Viktor’s kisses burns on his lips, a tingling that grows hotter the more he tries to ignore it. He’d thought last night was a lapse of judgment, the late hour and Viktor being, well, _Viktor_ , rendering him incapable of holding back. Now, he’s got a feeling that the lapse of judgment is more permanent.

Right now, all he can think about is Viktor’s body against his, Viktor’s breath against his cheek, the arm around his shoulders tightening again.

“Believe me, solnyshko, I’d _much_ rather stay in bed with you all day. But you did tell Minako that I’m the best ballet dancer in the world so, I’d like to at least eat something before trying to live up to that.”

“I didn’t-“

He did. In Japanese. Did someone translate for Viktor? He hopes it wasn’t Yuuko.

“You’re right,” he sighs, mourning the loss of Viktor’s body heat already.

Viktor presses a kiss to his temple, his poor heart skipping a beat. Such a soft touch, and yet Yuuri feels it spread through his body, lungs burning from it. He can’t be blamed for wanting more, tilting his head with a blush high on his cheeks, Viktor wasting no time in placing a finger underneath his chin to close the distance.

It’s so _easy_ to kiss Viktor, to melt into his touch like they’ve practiced this a million times. Yuuri sighs through his nose, parting his lips when Viktor licks along the seam of his mouth. All the times that he imagined this, and it’s _still_ better in reality. He wants to climb onto Viktor’s lap and kiss him senseless, bury his fingers in silver hair and see if he can draw out those little noises from last night. He can’t help but moan when Viktor sucks on his tongue, boneless and clutching at Viktor’s sweater with one hand. He’s about to suggest withdrawing from the final and take a vacation instead when Viktor pulls back, a distraught look on his face that for a second has Yuuri’s insides freeze uncomfortably.

Then the door slams open – not that Yuuri had noticed it closing before – and Yuri stomps inside, arms crossing as he stops before them with all the imperiousness of a child.

“No more sleeping,” he declares, the effect slightly ruined by the cat ears on top of his hoodie, thrown over his head as it is. “You’re like snorlax. I already ate!”

“Yura it’s been _two_ minutes since you were last in here.”

Ignoring Viktor, Yuri grabs the hand that Yuuri’s kept on Viktor’s chest, pulling at him insistently. Too embarrassed to protest he stands up, Yuri’s face breaking out in a triumphant grin.

“We’re going now,” he says, Yuuri dragged along as he heads for the hallway, wincing at the cold under his bare feet.

Everything is colder without Viktor’s body heat, like a rush of air after a hot bath. Yuri pulls him down the stairs, stomping his feet on every step until Yuuri’s half convinced he’s trying to break through the wood.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, speed walking towards the family dining room where they find Mari drinking tea in front of the TV, the sound muted as the host of one of the more popular morning news shows greets a guest.

“Yes.” Yuri plops down by a table where he seems to have left his almost untouched breakfast, and Yuuri carefully sits opposite of him. “You were on the news with dad.”

“Oh.”

“ _Without_ me.”

“ _Oh_. Um. Sorry?”

‘They seem to agree you got yourself a handsome boyfriend,’ Mari comments, the Japanese making Yuri frown a little.

Possibly because she also says the word _boyfriend_ in English, just like Yuuko had done the day before.

‘It’s not _official_ ,’ he hisses back, just as his mom comes out from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of rice, her cheerful good morning luckily ending the conversation right there.

Mari still gives him a look, too knowing and smug for Yuuri not to glare back. Even if he and Viktor have, well, _something_ , it doesn’t mean she can just assume things. Even if they were on the news.

Oh god. The _news_. Yuuri stares blankly at the TV screen, thoughts spinning inside his head. Was it the local news? Or the national? Sports news or gossip news or-

His heart skips a beat for more pleasant reasons when Viktor enters the room, looking far more composed than Yuuri’s probably ever felt in his entire life. He smiles, and how could Yuuri not smile back? How could he possibly not drown in that heart-shaped mouth, in the light blush dusting Viktor’s cheeks?

His sister coughs something that sounds suspiciously like _liar_ and Yuuri twitches, almost shooting up from the floor to go see if his mom needs some help with breakfast. She doesn’t, but Yuuri still lingers in the kitchen, resisting the urge to ask about the morning news.

With his luck they probably showed footage of him collapsing on the ice after his free skate, or when he face-palmed right into Viktor’s chest.

It takes a considerable amount of deep breaths for him to convince himself he’ll survive breakfast with his family, and even then the doubt still lingers.

(He does survive, even though Viktor almost makes him choke from the hand placed innocently on top of his thigh.

He’s ninety percent certain Mari thought he was groped.)

♡♡♡

Yuri never liked ballet studios much. He’s spent far too much time in them, waiting for his dad or attending classes. It’s not particularly more exciting because they’re in a ballet studio in Japan instead of Russia, but it _is_ interesting that Yuuri spent a lot of time training here, working on new routines with his ballet teacher when he was young.

Minako seems nicer than Lilia because she smiles and asks him what he thinks of ballet and only laughs brightly when he says he hates it. Of course his dad looks a bit like a kicked puppy when he says it, but Yuri doesn’t think lying is a good idea. He might have to do ballet, too, and he’d rather pass. Instead he settles down in a corner, regretting not asking if there’s wifi. He’d ask, but his dad and Minako are having a very lively conversation about ballet and people they know while Yuuri stands there and stares at Viktor.

It’s fine. Yuri needs some time to work on The Plan anyway, and so he crosses his legs and brings out his phone as a cover, keeping his eyes on the adults before him as sneakily as he can. His dad is wearing brand new spandex tights and a fitted grey t-shirt in one of those materials that breathe, because _I can’t look all sweaty, Yura!_ is what his dad said while they bought it. Which is a weird thing to say for someone who usually claims that if ballet isn’t getting you sweaty, you’re doing it wrong. But what would Yuri know. Sometimes his dad is really smart, but most of the time he isn’t. Yuuri had said he looked nice though, with his face all red.

The thing is, Yuri had initially thought that as long as Yuuri seemed to like his dad, everything was fine. But now he’s starting to wonder if he made a mistake. Yuuri was only supposed to like him so that he would coach Yuri, not so they would be on the news _without_ him. The Plan focuses on the coaching, but the getting married part is a crucial part of it.

However, Yuri is slowly starting to suspect that marriage is a Big Deal for grown-ups. Maybe bigger than winning the World Championships. Probably not more important than the Olympics, though. Because otherwise his dad, who is usually eager to try new things and do the things he wants to, would obviously have planned it already. But he hasn’t even _asked._ How is Yuri supposed to tick that part of the plan off the list any time soon if his dad won’t even ask?! What if someone else comes along and offers to marry Yuuri? Did he even think of that?!

No, because his dad _never_ thinks ahead. So, now Yuri has to do the thinking for him. So far, The Plan has consisted of three (3) bullet points:

1: _Yuuri wins with their choreography_

2: _Yuuri and his dad get married and they will then live together_

3: _Because they’re married, Yuuri will obviously coach Yuri_

After that, Yuri will win everything you could possibly win. It’s a pretty simple plan, but with Yuuri telling him it’s all just _rumors_ and looking all panicky when the word boyfriend is mentioned, he’s starting to think it won’t be very simple at all.

 _But_ , the new problem is that other people also focus on them being in a relationship instead of the attention being on _him_ , Yuri. It was _his_ idea to give Yuuri choreography, _his_ idea to start cheering for him in the first place. It’s like his dad’s getting all the credit when he shouldn’t. Like Yuri’s just the kid who tags along, or something.

Well, he’s going to fix that soon enough. Somehow. He’ll figure it out and add it to The Plan.

Minako starts some music and they finally stop talking, his dad walking over to the barre by the mirrors while Yuuri comes and sits on the floor with him. Yuri immediately latches onto his arm, holding tight to make sure he stays right there. He pretends not to see the questioning look Yuuri sends him, instead pulling his knees up and tapping his feet in tune with the music.

“Why is ballet so _boring_ ,” he whispers, because his dad has a secret super power consisting of always hearing Yuri when he complains about ballet, and _not_ listening other times.

“I think it’s nice,” Yuuri says, traitor as he is. “I like dancing.”

“It’s _so_ boring. Like, he’s not even doing anything, just waving his foot around!”

“It’s just the warm-up.” Yuuri sounds amused, but he never takes his eyes off Viktor. “What about the jumps, they’re not boring, are they?”

“They are. Super boring. Especially when dad does them.”

Yuuri shakes his head, watching as Viktor drags his foot back and forth across the floor, posing in different positions. Yuri refuses to learn all the names. It was his best tactic during lessons, pretending not to have any idea what was what. Of course his dad tried to drill the names into him but Yuri started doing the same to him about figure skating, which only made his dad rename all the ballet movements with figure skating names to try and make him do them.

Well, it’s not like he _forced_ him, but he did argue about the wonders of ballet a lot.

“You know,” Yuuri says, voice low as his dad turns to work with his left hand on the barre instead, “ballet is very good for figure skating.”

Yuri knocks his head onto Yuuri’s arm, letting out a groan. It’s nice because Yuuri is shorter and thinner than his dad so he doesn’t feel as small as usual.

“It still sucks.”

“I thought you wanted to beat me?” Yuuri bites his lip against a grin when Yuri scowls up at him, but all too soon his eyes flutter back towards Viktor. “I train ballet a lot, so…”

“I’ll beat you without ballet! You’ll see!”

“Is that so?”

Yuuri is definitely teasing him, but he can’t be angry about it because Yuuri is _here_ , right next to him, letting him sit close and talk to him and looking happy while doing it.

“Yeah. I’ll learn all the quads for juniors!”

He waits for Yuuri’s reply, but when nothing comes he finds him with eyes caught on his dad instead. He’s noticed the past days that somehow, Yuuri watches his dad all the time. He’s not even being sneaky about it. Maybe Yuri should teach him how to be less obvious, but most of all he can’t understand how his dad can be _that_ interesting. It’s like Yuuri’s eyes just lock on to Viktor and forget how to move, or something. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not. Maybe he just finds Viktor amusing, like a comedian telling jokes or a dog looking silly. When Yuri watches funny things on youtube he can’t look away, either.

An elbow to Yuuri’s ribs makes him pay attention again.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri squeaks out the words, clutching at his side. “What did you say?”

“Do you think dad looks funny?” he asks rather than repeating himself. He’ll show Yuuri soon enough. “Like, his nose is a little weird, isn’t it?”

“No?” Eyes blinking rapidly in confusion, Yuuri glances at Viktor before quickly turning back to Yuri. “I think his face is fine?”

“We have the same nose,” Yuri pouts. “It’s really annoying.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s confusion melts into a smile, warming him up from his toes all the way to his ears. “But your nose is really pretty, Yuri.”

Struggling with words for a moment, Yuri tugs at the strings on his hoodie, a nervous beat out of tune with the music.

“You should come to St. Petersburg,” he mumbles. “My grandpa can come over and make pirozkhi for you.”

It’s quiet for a moment, but then Yuuri nods.

“That sounds fun,” he says.

Yuri can’t wait.

♡♡♡

It’s a special feeling to watch Viktor dance ballet. It’s called suffering.

Yuuri is one hundred percent _suffering_ of thirst.

He wants to die a little. Maybe he’ll be remembered as the first person in the world to die from watching ballet, to his parents’ great shame. It’s not a bad way to go, but if he dies he’ll have to stop watching, and _that’s_ not an option, really.

It doesn’t help that Viktor’s clothes are so _tight_ , or that he now and then looks over to Yuuri and throws him a little wink and a smile, as if Yuuri’s face doesn’t burn a dark red in front of Minako and Yuri already. Minako even goes as far as to say _he’s got such good legs for ballet, don’t you think, Yuuri?_ In English. Expecting him to answer without embarrassing himself.

Not that Yuuri had any illusions that he was able to hide his attraction to Viktor from his family and friends, but this sort of teasing really feels unwarranted. No one ever teased Mari this much the few times she went on dates, and Yuuri would whine about how unfair it all is but he’s a bit preoccupied with Viktor’s butt.

And what a good butt it is…

He catches himself staring at it once again, as Viktor twirls around the studio in a series of complicated steps and jumps. He’s so graceful and handsome that Yuuri could cry. If only he’d been able to watch Viktor on stage live, rather than on video because he dances like he wants the audience to fall in love with him, and Yuuri is pretty sure he succeeded with at least half of them. It isn’t hard to fall, not when Viktor moves like he was born to bring the strongest to their knees with a flick of the wrist.

Yuuri’s heart thumps heavily, as if his blood has thickened from desire. He wants to touch Viktor. A lot. It’s the only coherent thought in his brain, and Yuuri has to wonder when he became such a slave to his libido. It wasn’t this bad until, well, until last night.

Perhaps proximity to Viktor has unleashed all the suppressed attraction Yuuri’s built up over the years, leaving his hands clammy with sweat and his teeth biting into his lips. He has to remind himself several times over the slow, torturous hour that Viktor dances that they are not alone, and Viktor had, in fact, rejected his advances yesterday. That thought is enough to put a small lid on top of the boiling pot that is his attraction, enough that he’s able to take a deep breath and unclench his poor muscles. Viktor isn’t visiting for fun, and neither is Yuuri. He’s got a competition to win, new programs to learn, and a shitload of expectations on his back.

Still, when Viktor finishes, dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair with a syrup-sweet smile that has Yuuri weak at the knees, he can’t help but think, _oh._

_Somehow, I don’t really care about winning at all._

The thought makes him feel guilty, as if all of Viktor’s hard work can be dismissed. Yuuri is supposed to win. That’s what people expect. They expect him to be perfect, to amaze and surprise with all his quads.

It dampens the smile he returns to Viktor, but luckily Minako distracts him before he can ask about it. She’s so excited, praising Viktor and lamenting over the fact he doesn’t perform anymore. Apparently, she watched some of the uploaded videos from his younger days, the ones that Yuuri likes to watch over and over in secret.

“It’s a shame,” Minako sighs, hand on her hip and lips pursed. “You’re still in good shape. I could easily set you up with a job here in Japan, if you’d like.”

The last part she says with an added wink towards Yuuri, who definitely doesn’t see a flash of life after retirement, a possible road towards married life in Japan.

His heart almost leaps out of his throat.

“ _Minako-sensei_ ,” he hisses. “Viktor has a great job in Russia already.”

“Oh, I know that. I’m just saying, if he ever wants to settle down in Japan…”

Viktor coughs, sparkles in his eyes.

“That’s very nice of you to offer,” he says, smiling wide.

Yuuri wants to drag him back home and push him onto his bed and–

“Oh, I wanted to ask,” Viktor continues like nothing. “Do you have any pictures of Yuuri doing ballet as a kid?”

Scratch that. Yuuri wants to shove him into a closet so he can never ever ask that question ever again.

And possibly join him in there.

Once he’s finally convinced Minako _not_ to start digging around for pictures, Viktor goes to freshen up a bit while Yuri plays with his phone. Of course, Minako pounces on him, all narrowed eyes and too-knowing expression.

‘He’s good,’ she says as if he didn’t know that already. ‘I can’t believe I’ll have to tell Lilia he’s good enough for you.’

‘What do you mean _good enough_ ,’ Yuuri squeaks, fumbling with his glasses as he tries to wipe them on his shirt.

‘You need to have _standards_ , Yuuri! Don’t just let any man sweet-talk you into his bed!’

‘I’m not- He didn’t- _Minako-sensei_!”

‘Anyway,’ she says, waving his protests off. ‘Where’s my signed picture of you and Chris? You _did_ get one, right?’

‘Yes,’ he sighs, ‘it’s in my coat.’

Sometimes he thinks Minako is disappointed he doesn’t date Chris. Then again, how awkward would _that_ be? He shudders, trying not to think about it. If anyone’s been trying to sweet-talk him into bed it would be Chris, though Yuuri knows it’s only meant to tease him.

‘Maybe I should ask for one with you and Viktor instead,’ she hums, ‘it would sell for a fortune I bet.’

Yuuri pretends he didn’t hear her.

♡♡♡

After Minako’s studio – but no pictures to his great disappointment – they go to Ice Castle Hasetsu, because Yuri demands it and who is Viktor to deny his child true happiness? He would have liked to shower first, but as it is he’ll just have to hope that Yuuri is into older, sweaty men. (Actually, maybe he shouldn’t hope for that at all.) He does think he looks rather good in the yoga pants at least, though the rink is cold enough that he needs to keep his jacket on, thus covering most of the good parts of his body.

Yuuko is there, just as excited as she was yesterday, easily finding a pair of skates for Yuri that won’t be too terrible to skate in.

“Have fun!” she calls after them as they head inside, adding something in Japanese that has Yuuri blushing for some reason.

He still wonders if Yuuri ever liked her. The relief upon finding out she’s married still can’t entirely cancel out the fact that she is very pretty, and most likely close to Yuuri in age. It makes him jealous of everyone who knew Yuuri when he was young, blessed with his presence while Viktor buried himself in ballet, unable to imagine a day where a human being could mean more than dancing.

(Of course, Yura means more to him than ballet, but he’d been thinking more of romantic partners than children back then.)

Since Yuuri didn’t bring his skates they both end up leaning against the boards, watching Yura warm up on the ice and trying to adjust to his borrowed skates. It’s nice. _Domestic_. Viktor has to purse his lips in order not to sigh wistfully, while Yuuri eyes Yura with keen eyes. He knows he’ll have to bring up the coaching soon, but being a little more realistic than his son he doesn’t want to ask just yet, preferring to bask in the current situation for a little longer.

For a few minutes they simply stand in silence, watching Yuri and occasionally sending him encouraging smiles. Yuuri looks relaxed, at home in his natural environment. The rink is a little rundown but charming, with large windows letting in the bleak winter light. There's a banner with some kind of cute mascot, and everything seems colored a muted blue or white. The chill in the air leaves Yuuri's cheeks pink, hair falling in messy strands over his glasses.

Viktor wants to tuck those strands behind an ear, wants Yuuri smiling at him in thanks. He's about to, when Yuuri interrupts his thoughts with a question.

"How often does Yuri practice at home?"

Slowly processing the words, Viktor hums in thought.

"Well, he's got class about four times a week. But I take him there on weekends too, and sometimes he goes just to watch the older kids."

"You're so dedicated," Yuuri says, watching him with wide eyes, lovely in his surprise. "I mean, I should have known that already, but you never thought of hiring a baby sitter or someone to help?"

Viktor can't help the laughter bubbling from his throat, shaking his head when Yuuri frowns a bit.

"I don't think I could. Yura is... sensitive. About that sort of thing. Sometimes Lilia helps, at least when I have to go abroad, but..."

He hesitates. There are things he hasn't shared with anyone else, and he's not sure if he can explain, or how.

"Oh." It comes out soft, Yuuri curling in on himself a little, fingers picking at his sleeves on top of the boards. "I just meant because you seem so, um, sought after. For work I mean."

"I suppose I am." He grins a little, Yuuri rolling his eyes at the smug tone. "But I can bring my paperwork to Yura's practice so it's not that bad. I just need to make sure to pay attention now and then. And sometimes it’s enough to just drive him and pick him up again."

"I see. That's nice." Yuuri opens his mouth as if to continue, closing it again as his frown deepens.

Leaning his elbow on the boards Viktor peeks at him, wonders if the face he's making is just because he's thinking or if there's something bothering him.

"I'm sure it makes him happy," he says eventually, trailing Yuri's form as he carves figures into the ice. "I think you're an amazing dad."

It catches Viktor off-guard, draws the breath out of him more effectively than a punch to the stomach. There’s something suspiciously alike the wet burn of tears in his throat, hands clutching at the boards. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted, _needed_ to hear that until the words left Yuuri’s lips.

“I-“ he starts, forced to clear his throat a couple times. “Thank you. Yuuri, that’s-“

He wants to kiss him. He wants to pour his feelings into a million kisses because Yuuri just _said that_.

There are things that Viktor doesn’t like to think about. There are times, when all he wants is to close the door on himself and forget his life, forget how he messes up and forget what Yura’s face looks like when upset.

Most of the time he has no idea what he’s doing, but he keeps trying and gritting his teeth against the easy ways out, tries his best to balance what he wants to do and what he has to, and to make sure that Yuri will grow up with maybe not a perfect family but at least with someone who puts him first.

He won’t lie. It’s hard sometimes, with no one else to rely on. And he can’t rely on Yuuri, but.

He has a feeling that he _could_ , in the future.

That Yuuri can be that person for him, a best friend and lover and co-parent, someone who will make both him and Yuri happy.

He wants it, so much that it _hurts_ , so much that the words are on the tip of his tongue and he only manages to swallow them because he doesn’t dare to push.

The words are hidden in the slow breath he exhales, in the way he forces his hands to relax.

 _Stay with me. Never let me go_.

His face feels strange as he forces a smile, like his true emotions are spilling out and he can do nothing to stop them. Yuuri must think he’s so very capable, but he’s _not_.

“That means a lot,” he says instead of all the other things, and Yuuri tucks his chin into his jacket collar and smiles, so sweet that Viktor wants to wrap him in his arms and spin him around forever.

What he does is grab one of Yuuri’s hands, lacing their fingers together, heart racing. Yuuri doesn’t object, only squeezes back and moves a little closer. It helps, against the tide of emotions welling up inside him. Viktor is used to showing nothing, to keep things carefully hidden, to only whisper his thoughts and feelings into Makkachin’s fur when Yuri sleeps. It’s not the best way to deal with things, he knows that; but he’s not close with his parents, has no close friends, and it’s not like he’s even been on a date since Yuri moved in with him.

“Thank you,” he breathes out again, keeping his eyes carefully on Yuri, even though he can feel Yuuri’s searching gaze trace the side of his face.

Yuri picks that moment to decide he’s done with warm-ups, speeding towards them and stopping just short of the boards, ice shavings spraying from his skates.

“They’re not like my skates,” he says, which is an unusually polite phrasing for his son.

“Of course not,” Yuuri replies, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I asked my mother to check if she kept any of my old pairs that aren’t too worn out, maybe they’ll be alright if we sharpen them.”

“Awesome.” Yuri beams, watching Yuuri expectantly. “Then what should I practice?”

“Practice…?” Blinking a few times, Yuuri glances at Viktor before nodding as if to himself. “You’ll have to stick to easier things because of the skates but, maybe some figures?”

“ _Figures_.” The distaste in Yuri’s voice is clear as day.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “It’s called figure skating, isn’t it?”

The distaste travels to the rest of Yuri’s face, but he doesn’t object. In the end he spends almost two hours carving lines into the ice, Yuuri’s keen eyes correcting his every move to minimal arguing.

 _And that_ , Viktor thinks, _is only one of many reasons I must marry him._

♡♡♡

 _“Phichit_ ,” Yuuri hisses over skype that evening. “I have a serious problem will you _stop_ laughing at me.”

_“I just-“_

Phichit wheezes, clutching at his sides before his computer screen. It’s still daytime in Detroit, but Phichit has half the day off to recover from the competition. Which is great for Yuuri, except he’s _no_ help at all.

 _“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”_ Phichit holds his hands up, grin so wide his face might as well split in two. _“Promise.”_

“Well?” Yuuri’s impatience and frustration seeps into his voice, because Viktor had kissed him goodnight with nothing more than a simple peck and Yuuri is _suffering_. “Am I crazy for wanting more?”

It’s enough to send Phichit into another fit of giggles, muffled behind his hands. Yuuri contemplates ending the call. Maybe he can find a new best friend. Maybe talking to Mari is less embarrassing.

 _“O—kay,”_ Phichit says after a while, breathing in deep to calm down. _“Wow. Yuuri! Don’t look at me like that, I’m just happy for you!”_

Yuuri huffs, shifting his position on the bed. He’d thought that maybe Viktor would make sure that Yuri fell asleep and then he’d come knocking, but no such luck. At least yesterday he got _something,_ and-

God, he’s so desperate it’s borderline pathetic, isn’t it. He just can’t help the thought nagging in the back of his mind, that time is short and then they’ll be separated again. Viktor _likes_ him, it’s past the time of taking things slow. Right? _Seize the moment_ and all that.

“Ugh, he’s just so, so-“

Yuuri whines, burying his face in one arm, angling a knee up to rest his elbow against it.

_“Hot? Russian? Looking like he’d be a total beast in be-“_

He slams the phone down on the mattress, which does nothing to muffle Phichit’s cackling laughter. He really should have known better than to call Phichit and admit he was struggling to keep his mind out of the gutter. All throughout dinner he’d kept spacing out, stuck on the way Viktor smiled or how he pushed the chopsticks into his mouth, or licked rice from his lips. Mari kept pinching him, and he sorely regretted sitting next to her. Lunch had gone a little better because he’d spent most of it talking to Yuri about other skaters, while Viktor mostly listened.

They still haven’t tried the onsen together, because Yuuri had chickened out and helped his parents while Viktor and Yuri had a soak before dinner.

_“Yuuri? Hello? You do realize Minako posted a picture of you drooling over his ass earlier, right?”_

“ _What_?!” Yuuri hasn’t checked social media today. He knows Yuri uploaded a picture of the three of them at the rink that Yuuko took at the end of practice, but that’s all. “Why are you even following her?”

_“Oh, you know.”_

Yuuri doesn’t know.

He’s not so sure he _wants_ to know, either.

“I need _advice_ ,” he groans, still hiding his face but at least turning the phone over, so that Phichit can have a great view of the ceiling. “What if I keep feeling this distracted and just, I don’t know, fall on my face while skating and die?”

Phichit snorts, and Yuuri can _hear_ the grin on his face.

 _“Your fans would murder him,”_ Phichit says airily, which isn’t helpful at all. _“Honestly? I have no idea. Maybe just ask him? He’s not gonna say no.”_

“Ha. Now that. _That_ is not going to work. And what if he _does_.”

Yuuri would combust on the spot just attempting it. He’s sure. And then Viktor would laugh and tell him Yuuri isn’t attractive at all, and-

He sighs, trying to shake the negative thoughts from his mind. Viktor _likes_ him, even if he isn’t throwing himself at Yuuri like Yuuri maybe secretly wants him to.

_“Hmm. Google it.”_

Yuuri shouldn’t have expected better, honestly. But when he ends the call he feels just as frustrated, just as filled with the buzz of Viktor’s touch on his skin, the memory of his lips sending shivers of want through his body…

He should sleep, because tomorrow he needs to start practicing his new programs, several days of hard work ahead of him.

Oh, he really _should_.

♡♡♡

**Google search history:**

_How to tell if your boyfriend wants you_

_How to tell if your boyfriend finds you attractive_

_How to stop feeling sexually frustrated_

_How to seduce your boyfriend_

_How to tell someone wants to sleep with you_

_How to tell someone you want to sleep with them_

_How to look sexy_

_How to tell you’re actually in a relationship_

_How to date Russian men_

**Article: Top Tips for Impressing Russian Men**

_If a Russian man has stolen your heart, here are some ways to impress him._

  * Challenge Him
  * Make Him Breakfast
  * Clean His Room
  * Let Him Be a Gentleman
  * Dress Tastefully



**Article: Tips on dating a Russian man**

_Understand Cultural Differences_

_Another major cultural difference is that there's no such thing as personal space in Russia, and Russian men will see it as normal to hold your arm or stand very close to you when speaking. If you're in the beginning stages of the relationship and this makes you uncomfortable, say something. Otherwise, keep in mind that this is not an indication that he likes you and plans on seeing you again._

 

**Blog post: Ten Reasons You Need To Date A Russian Guy At Least Once In Your Life**

  1. He will always want to pick you up
  2. He will never let you pay
  3. He will make you feel feminine
  4. He will take your relationship seriously
  5. He will want to meet your family
  6. He actually wants to get married and have kids
  7. He will want to protect you
  8. He will bring you flowers for no reason
  9. He has a funny accent



_You will love his accent. He will sound like your personal “Russian gangster”._

  1. He will go out of his way to make you happy



♡♡♡

 

**yuurikatsukiofficialfanclub.com**

**Forum chat– #viktuuri**

 

flipmyquad: i’m late bc work but OMG THAT PICTURE

mysteryskates: I KNOW

mysteryskates: how expensive are tickets to Hasetsu????

stammi-vicinora: I checked, very expensive:(

stammi-vicinora: I already used my money to buy the limited edition supporter jacket *cries*

flipmyquad: guys i’m crying they’re so??? pretty????

mysteryskates: i just want to go there so Yuuri can step on me… pls… i’ll do anything

stammi-vicinora: HE HAS A BOYFRIEND

catonskates: he hasn’t confirmed it yet though…

flipmyquad: they look like a happy family… i can’t stop looking at the picture…

stammi-vicinora: I don’t think he needs to make a post on social media to actually have a boyfriend???

mysteryskates: can they adopt me

mysteryskates: as their pet

stammi-vicinora: NO

catonskates: idk i don’t believe rumors just like that. it’s true that they look very close, but they could be good friends. Viktor is working for him, maybe we should respect their professional integrity.

mysteryskates: maybe we should respect their GAY

mysteryskates: because it’s EVERYWHERE

stammi-vicinora: [link] [link] [link]

stammi-vicinora: I rest my case

mysteryskates: *high fives*

catonskates: nah, i’ll stand by my words. it’s just fans reading too much into it as usual. remember the discourse about Yuuri and Phichit? Yuuri and Chris? Yuuri and literally every single gay skater?

flipmyquad: can i just frame this picture on my wall… and look at it forever…

mysteryskates: lol Yuuri never looked like he wanted to climb them tho

mysteryskates: maybe they can both step on me at the same time… interesting

stammi-vicinora: audfhdsjkgksjfjgkf they are REAL PEOPLE

mysteryskates: i know

mysteryskates: that’s the best part 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many rounds of thirsty yuuri vs domestic viktor until the final battle? 
> 
> Special thanks to Nora for letting me borrow your username in the group chat, and for sending me so many snacks with all the merch♡
> 
> If you missed my oneshots from December, you can find the smutty one [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13104723) and the fluffy one [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13180761) ♥～(‘▽^人)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirsty Yuuri vs ...Thirsty Viktor? Round 2!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for it to take me this long to update, but such is life. I'm also very behind on replying to reviews, I'm really sorry about that! Will do my best to catch up soon<3
> 
> At least I've graduated now! I'd thought I'd have a relaxed summer being unemployed, but there's a high chance I'll get a job already during summer. I'll try to write lots anyway! And thanks for being patient with me, haha...
> 
> Small reminder: anything written as 'blah blah' is in Japanese. 
> 
> Also please forgive Phichit. Celestino will confiscate his phone soon, promise.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Last season’s most popular picture of Yuuri that circulated the internet was one of him in the low cut costume, choker in place, _glasses on_ , and a frown on his face. It looked in the picture as if he’d just left the ice, hair still slicked back but with strands escaping, plastered to his forehead. It made its rounds with different captions, some of the most popular being “Daddy”, “Please step on me”, and “I would have his babies if I could but unfortunately, I am not Worthy”.

The thing is, no one is entirely sure who posted the picture first, or who the photographer even is. It’s high quality, but no professionals have claimed ownership. Fans try not to question it, because miracles like that picture should simply not be questioned. Actually, now and then new pictures surface that no one can tell where they were taken, or when, or why it was posted in the first place. A random fan account just happens to post it, claiming they found it on google, and no one can tell where it first popped up.

Of course, what they don’t know is that Phichit Chulanont, age 19, Thailand’s top skater and best friend of one Yuuri Katsuki, is the sole reason these pictures go online.

Why? Well, a more accurate question would be why _not_ , because Phichit sees it as his duty as best friend to keep his best friend’s fan club from dying of lack of Yuuri. It’s just that Yuuri rarely posts pictures of himself on social media, and certainly not _juicy_ pictures, and so Phichit has made it his mission to capture great shots of him for the benefit of those thirsty fans.

(He also posts pics that make good memes, but those he posts on his official account.)

Currently, Phichit is logged onto one of his secret Yuuri twitter fan accounts, one that tends to get at least ten people a week asking if he’s actually Phichit. Even though it’s hilarious, he can’t help but worry a little over Yuuri’s latest predicament. As best friend, it’s definitely part of his responsibilities to make sure he gets the treatment he deserves from other people, and if that treatment includes a good dicking by Viktor Nikiforov, then Phichit has a plan for that, too.

He hums along to the King and the skater theme, a hamster scurrying over the laptop keyboard on his stomach. He’s debating which picture would be better to add below the poll he created – Yuuri looking needy and rose-cheeked with parted lips, on his stomach in bed, as if he’d had a wild night and woke up to his lover begging for more (though the wild night consisted of video games and cheating their diet, and the lover was Phichit asking if he wanted the last remaining cookie), or Yuuri licking his thumb like some kind of porn star (after eating the cookie).

Hmm. Maybe both of these pictures would break the internet if he actually posted them.

He shrugs, and picks the first one. He’ll send the second one in a private DM to a certain Mr. Nikiforov with the poll link…

Yeah, that should do it.

♡♡♡

 

 **lookin like a snack** **@katsukis-buns**

_What would you do if Yuuri looked at you like this and said he wants you? (Image below)_

A: I’m not worthy??

B:  Rip my clothes off

C: Make him feel so good

D: aka give him that d***

**lookin like a snack** **@katsukis-buns**

_Hint: if you’re not Viktor Nikiforov, it’s A._

_[image]_

 

♡♡♡

 

Phichit’s evil plan to break the internet doesn’t quite succeed, but he almost breaks Viktor. It’s time for breakfast, and Viktor rubs his eyes as Yuuri’s mother places food in front of him. He feels like the most cherished of guests, thanking her with some added gushing over how good the food is, how amazing the hot springs were last night. She smiles and pats his head and honestly? Viktor could live here for the rest of his life.

It’s only after both Yuuri and Yuri have made their ways downstairs to join him – one sleepy and dragged by the hand, the other looking pleased with himself – that he remembers that he turned off wifi last night as he charged his phone, and so he absentmindedly turns it on again as Yuri asks questions about Yuuri’s favorite breakfast foods in Japan versus America.

He’s surprised and a little concerned about the amount of notifications from twitter. Of course, he usually gets a fair amount of notes on his posts, but these appear to be mentions? He scrolls, finding most of them to be variations of _omg_ or _have you seen this?_ Naturally, Viktor clicks on one such mention and scrolls up to the original post.

He doesn’t choke on his tea, but it’s a near thing. The first thing he sees is the picture of Yuuri, and it’s as if taken directly from his daydreams. He looks gorgeous, sleep-mussed and eyes full of intent.

God, Viktor would cry if the real thing wasn’t sitting opposite of him. No man should be allowed to look that beautiful.

“You okay?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor almost inhales his tongue as he presses his phone against his chest.

“Yes,” he blurts out, voice high-pitched and half-panicked.

He doesn’t want Yuuri to see the picture before he’s had the opportunity of saving it to his phone.

“I’m fine, perfect, just drank my tea too fast.”

Yuuri looks unconvinced but drops it, glancing at Viktor’s phone before turning back to Yuri. After a few seconds, Viktor dares to exhale and lowers his phone enough to peek at the screen. Yuuri looks just as good as before, and Viktor greedily drinks in the details. Those parted lips, a little cracked but so soft. His t-shirt slipping down a little by the neck, stretched out by too many washes. Viktor almost feels a little teary-eyed that Yuuri’s fans would think to tag him in a blessed post like this.

It’s just that, when he scrolls to check who posted it, there are words above the picture. No wonder people tagged him when it was specifically meant for him. He sends a quick glance towards Yuuri, making sure he’s still deep in conversation, and scrolls up a little more to find out what the mentioned hint refers to.

Viktor doesn’t need tea in his mouth to choke this time. He coughs, phone slammed face first onto the tabletop, Yuuri rushing around to rub his back with concern.

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright?” Yuuri asks, and Viktor isn’t so sure anymore.

He coughs into his arm, hiding his burning face. Who even _makes_ a poll like that?! _Children_ could find it!

The fact that Viktor would pick all four options simultaneously somehow is beside the point. Also he’d propose – it would just be the logical thing to do.

Yuuri keeps rubbing his back, and Viktor somehow refrains from groaning in frustration. He doesn’t need people reminding him of how much he’d love spending some quality time with Yuuri in bed, he’s already suffering enough. _It’s hard to be a gentleman_ , he pouts inside his head. By now Hiroko has rushed out of the kitchen as well, offering him a cup of water and a cough pill.

Maybe Viktor should simply turn off the wifi and keep it like that.

“I’ll just go to the bathroom,” he chokes out, standing on unsteady legs and half-blind making his way to the nearest one.

Once he closes and locks the door around himself he draws in a desperate breath, feeling a little wild. His heart pounds against his ribs, and he sinks down onto the toilet lid with hands almost shaking. God, he almost died, and all because of Yuuri looking sexy in a picture. How the hell would he survive the real thing? Viktor breathes deep, hands between his thighs and clenching them tight. It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s just a picture, and-

Somewhere, someone has the original of that picture. But who? A past lover? Viktor bites down the jealousy, knows it’s not for him to decide whether or not Yuuri was allowed to share sexy pictures of himself in the past. Perhaps at some point Yuuri will let _him_ take pictures like that. He’ll just have to be patient…

He shakes his head, one hand coming up to smack his forehead. He was supposed to calm down, not imagine Yuuri posing for him in bed, maybe not wearing underwear, telling Viktor to stop photographing him and capture his body with his hands and mouth instead-

Viktor almost laughs, letting out a strangled noise inside his throat instead. It’s too easy to be distracted by Yuuri. No, he needs to get rid of twitter, forget the poll even exists. With another few breaths, Viktor braves his phone screen. He almost even manages to resist temptation, saving the picture with another wounded noise escaping him. He’s just about to pat himself on the back for going through with it when his eyes catch the number above the DM letter symbol. Now, Viktor only allows people he follows to send him DMs, and he doesn’t follow many people, and even fewer that would bother to send him a DM.

In fact, the only person he’d expect sending him one is Phichit, because he’d sent a few pictures from their sightseeing that way. It’s possible that he meant to warn Viktor about the poll, or make sure Viktor helps Yuuri avoid seeing it. And so, he clicks on the icon, and it is Phichit, and the words he can see in the preview window spell out _I thought you’d appreciate the R-rated version_ followed by an alarming amount of fire emojis.

Two things fly through Viktor’s poor brain as he opens the message and sees the picture of Yuuri.

The first is that he’s going to murder Phichit.

The second is that after murdering him, he’s going to revive him and buy him an entire hamster theme park, because he cannot _believe_ that Phichit would leak juicy pictures of Yuuri to the entire world but he also can’t believe how blessed he is to lay eyes upon this particular image. He has so many questions. And, he might be a little bit hard.

Viktor saves that picture, too, and vows to hold himself back until the final is over despite temptation making his life so impossibly difficult. He owes Yuuri focus on the competition, to give him the programs he need, to prove to Yuuri’s coach that Viktor is a help, not a distraction.

But oh, he is going to _suffer_.

 

♡♡♡

 

Yuuri isn’t entirely sure what has Viktor so distracted. They’re at the rink, because Yuuri wanted to start the day by finally skating again, deprived as he’s been for the past two days. He doesn’t do anything too strenuous though, which gives him ample time to watch Viktor. Viktor, however, mostly watches his phone.

After a while of this – Yuuri watching Viktor and Viktor absorbed with whatever’s on the screen – Yuuri decides to simply skate over and see what’s so interesting. Yuri is still at the inn, catching up on homework despite heavy protesting, so Yuuri doesn’t have to be mindful of him. It also gives him too many ideas on what they could do later in the showers, considering how empty Ice Castle Hasetsu is since it doesn’t open to the public until sometime in the afternoon.

He moves slowly, lazy strokes towards Viktor. He’s been acting a little strangely ever since that rush to the bathroom, avoiding Yuuri’s eyes a lot. It makes his anxious thoughts start knocking, drawing up scenarios of Viktor changing his mind, of finding someone else to dedicate his love to.

Not that Yuuri is allowed to call it love yet! He just can’t help thinking in those terms, can’t help spending a few precious moments hitting snooze on his phone by imagining them somehow living together after the Grand prix final.

Entering the kitchen in the morning and finding Viktor there is such an intense feeling, the kind that makes him want to clutch at his heart. Even this, Viktor standing on the other side of the boards only to watch him, only because Yuuri is there…

Sensing his approach, Viktor looks up from his phone. He flashes Yuuri a smile, phone disappearing into a coat pocket. Yuuri is hit with the sudden need to know what, _exactly_ , he was looking at.  

“Done already?” Viktor asks, holding out Yuuri’s water bottle.

“Just felt like a break,” he mumbles, and, because no one else is there, he leans over to press a quick kiss to Viktor’s lips.

“Oh,” Viktor says, touching his lips once Yuuri moves back. “Hello.”

He looks so stunned that Yuuri can’t help but laugh, half in relief because his brain had managed to conjure up a few unpleasant possibilities on the way there. It didn’t help that those damn articles he found made him question every single interaction they’ve ever had, though half of him interpreted everything to mean Viktor wants to propose instead. But ah, if only he could be this brave later, in the locker rooms…

“I didn’t really have time to process that,” Viktor pouts, leaning over the boards. “I think I need another one.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri leans back, just out of reach. “Maybe if you tell me what’s so interesting on your phone.”

To his surprise, Viktor blushes bright red and clears his throat. It has Yuuri’s curiosity double, fingers itching to latch onto the phone.

“It’s, um. It’s nothing. I’m just… keeping track of something.”

“Something?”

Viktor smiles, a little too innocent. He leans over, into the small space separating them, hand shooting out to tug at Yuuri’s training jacket. He’d found it in his closet, surprised it mostly fit since he’d been using it back in high school.

“Yuuri, come here,” he pouts, and Yuuri, helpless, lets Viktor pull him close. “I didn’t mean to distract you from practice.”

There are a lot of things Yuuri wants to say to that, most of them embarrassing. Instead he buries his face in the crook of Viktor’s neck, underneath his coat collar. Maybe that’s embarrassing, too, but Viktor hugs his shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of his head, so he thinks it’s alright.

“Everything okay?” Viktor mumbles, and all of it – his voice, his smell, the way he holds him – has Yuuri smiling like mad.

“Mhm,” he says, wondering if Viktor thinks his nose is cold, or if he’s enjoying this just as much as he is. “Just taking that break.”

“I see. And does your break always involve hugging handsome men?”

“What?” Yuuri snorts at the thought, straightening up to look at Viktor. “I mean, Celestino-sensei would call that a distraction, anyway.”

“Aww, Yuuri! How cruel! I can see it now, long lines of pretty boys turned away at the rink door. And all of them crying!”

“Why would-“ Yuuri shakes his head, amused despite himself. “As if that would ever happen.”

“If I lived in Detroit I’d be one of them,” Viktor says with a too serious face, and Yuuri shoves at his chest.

“Don’t be silly,” he says, but his heart definitely skips a beat. “People don’t even ask me for autographs there.”

“They don’t?” For some reason Viktor looks like this is a problem. “They don’t know how blessed they are.”

Yuuri has to avert his eyes, hand coming up to rub at his neck. It’s not the first time he wonders how Viktor can act so charming, as if it comes naturally to him. It’s highly unfair – Yuuri couldn’t even imagine telling Viktor his colleagues are blessed because of his presence, even if that’s what he thinks.

“Yuu–ri,” Viktor calls, tilting his head. “Does that mean I’m the only handsome man you hug at practice?”

“I think Phichit would call himself handsome, too.”

He bites his lip, cursing himself. Viktor was probably flirting, and Yuuri brought up Phichit instead! At least, he hopes Viktor was flirting. He’s about to take it back when Viktor laughs, head thrown back and eyes crinkling.

“Well,” Viktor says through the laughter, “I wouldn’t say he _isn’t_ handsome. But he did say you two are only best friends.”

“Yes,” Yuuri sighs, covering his face with his hands.  “And I don’t go around hugging random people at practice. Why are we even talking about this?”

Viktor shrugs when Yuuri peeks through his fingers, lips still curled at the corners. He looks so pretty like this. _Like he’s mine_ , Yuuri thinks, and promptly hides behind his hands again. He’d told himself he _wouldn’t_ assume too much. He blames the googling last night. It’s made him desperate for validation, and he still can’t stop thinking about Viktor naked.

Why is life so hard? All he wants is to win the Grand prix final. It shouldn’t involve all this emotional suffering.

“We could talk about something else, but I’m guessing you want to skate a bit more?”

“Skate. Yes. Skating is good.”

He feels Viktor’s hands wrap around his wrists, gently pulling them from his face. He’s not sure what he wants.

“Solnyshko,” Viktor says, lips soft and warm against the back of Yuuri’s hand. “Am I too distracting? Too handsome? I can go sit in the lobby if you-“

“No,” Yuuri hurries to say, shaking his head. “You’re fine. _It’s_ fine. Stay right there.”

“Okay.”

Viktor’s lips are still touching his hand, curved in a sweet smile. When Viktor looks at him like this, warm and a little uncertain, it’s all he can do not to grab him and kiss him like he’d die otherwise.

“Okay,” he echoes, squeezing Viktor’s hand in his.

It’s more than okay.

 

♡♡♡

 

Yuri hates homework with a passion he usually reserves for people who talk shit about figure skating. Though, for the past half hour or so he’s been doodling ice skates instead of working on the questions. Who needs history anyway? He likes to live in the _present_ thank you very much. Taking another – angry – sip of melon soda he glares at the pile of printed worksheets in front of him. If only the onsen didn’t have a printer! Then he could have been with Yuuri, skating at the rink.

Even worse, his phone is confiscated by Mari. There’s no way Yuri would dare try to steal it back from her, and his dad probably knew that when he handed it over to her at breakfast.

No phone is like, child abuse! Totally!

He groans in frustration, throwing his pen down on the table and leaning back. It should be illegal to give homework to kids, anyway. His followers are expecting him to update, telling them he was all but grounded is too embarrassing. He’ll need to post something good. Something unexpected, worth waiting for…

Yesterday he’d posted a picture of himself and his dad in the bathrobes Yuuri’s mom gave them, but if he could get one of Yuuri then that might be good enough… People ask for such weird things, really. Skating pictures are much cooler, but for some reason the pictures he’s posted of Yuuri off the ice are more popular. Even Phichit told him to take lots of pictures of Yuuri since he wouldn’t be there to do it himself.

So, if only he could have his _phone_ and also not be doing homework on his own…

Just then Mari walks by, peeking into the dining room through the doorway.

“No fun?” she asks, an eyebrow raised.

Yuri grits his teeth. She looks like she’s about to say something along the lines of _when I was a kid all my homework was sooo much harder than yours so suck it up_.

“Okay,” she sighs, a small smile on her face.

It gives Yuri instant hope as she beckons for him to follow. He jumps up, homework instantly forgotten as she leads him towards a backroom he hasn’t seen before.

“If it’s boring, you can help me,” she says, and dumps a load of towels on top of him that he barely catches. “Like this,” she adds.

Yuri watches as she expertly folds one of the towels, setting it on the shelf in front of them. It’s only mild shock that keeps him from protesting. Towels? Folding? Is this like all those times his dad makes him help out with chores and tells him it’s good for his character?

“Or homework?” she asks, mouth curled at one corner.

“Towels are great!” he says, clutching the soft pile to his chest.

Mari only pats his head and laughs a little.

 

♡♡♡

 

Phichit Chulanont, figure skating prince of Thailand, anxiously gnaws on a thumb as he refreshes his twitter app. He’s too old for this nail-biting drama. Currently, option D on the poll is in the lead with a staggering 67%, and Viktor has left him on read. No news from Yuuri yet, though it’s not like he can expect him to call him right after and say _I don’t know how you did it, Phichit, but I feel fantastic_.

It would really help if he did, though.

He’s been posting a series of selfies to help with the waiting, featuring his hamsters in various poses. Somehow he feels like they lack the usual touch, as if people can tell that he’s impatiently waiting for news of his best friend successfully nailing the man of his dreams.

Is Phichit a bad person for being so invested in this? He shrugs, angling the camera and pushing little Arthur further up his chest. He captions the picture _Selfie #8, still waiting for those good news!_

It’s only a few minutes later when he bothers to check the notifications that he realizes his mistake.

 

 

 **lookin like a snack** **@katsukis-buns**

Selfie #8, still waiting for those good news!

_[image]_

 

**@katsuki+ice**

**@katsukis-buns** OMG IS THIS #viktuuri #confirmation ??????????????????

 

**@katsuki+ice**

**@katsukis-buns** Also **@phichitchu** are you for real I’m DEAD

_[gif of a chubby cat flopping onto the floor]_

 

The rest of the replies are mostly similar versions of people screaming over a possible relationship confirmation. Maybe Phichit should be a little concerned  that they care a lot more about Yuuri having a boyfriend than the fact that Phichit just outed himself as a fan account posting nsfw polls about his best friend and the as of yet still unconfirmed boyfriend. If Yuuri finds out he’s absolutely _dead_.

If he survives this, he’s going to give up social media for an entire _month_.

Or at least a week.

 

_Delete account?_

 

Phichit presses _yes_.

 

♡♡♡

 

Viktor isn’t sure how he ended up in the locker room with Yuuri. They were discussing the choreography and Yuuri held the door open for him and here he is, trying and failing not to look as Yuuri takes his shirt off.

It’s a dangerous situation, only because if Yuuri were to ask, Viktor could certainly not find it in him to say no, not after staring at the most gorgeous (and sexy) pictures of him for the better part of two hours.

Yuuri drops the shirt on a bench, runs a hand through his hair-

Viktor _really_ shouldn’t look.

“I’ll – um – wait outside.”

He walks – or more like _escapes –_ on stiff legs, leaning against a wall as soon as he’s out in the corridor. He’s a little pathetic, isn’t he? He’s been in locker rooms countless times, has seen naked men and been naked himself more often than he wants to count. But this? Viktor doesn’t know how to handle it. He draws in a shaky breath, rubs his face in frustration. Of course he _wants_ Yuuri, he just thought he could handle it more gracefully. Even if Yuuri’s best friend sending him lewd pictures is an indication that Yuuri might not want to wait, even if Yuuri looked very disappointed that night he tried to work, Viktor _is_ going to stick by his promise to keep things child-friendly until the competition is over.

If he gives in once, he’s knows it will be all he thinks about for the rest of their time together.

You can’t choreograph well when all you want is to see the other person naked. God, maybe he should apologize to Yuuri. Tell him he’s everything that Viktor wants and he knows he tends to come on too strong and really, he should be able to keep their professional and personal lives separate.

Yuuri walks out the door ten minutes later, hair damp and smelling of shampoo. Viktor doesn’t think he can be blamed for scooping him into his arms, holding him tight as he breathes in, nose pressed against his hair.

“Viktor?” Yuuri sounds surprised, almost, gym bag sliding to the floor. “I thought you went outside.”

“Mm, no. I waited here.”

Holding Yuuri is definitely one of Viktor’s favorite things to do. He just fits so perfectly against him that he never wants to let go.

“Oh.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Viktor doesn’t know what to do. How does he explain himself? He isn’t even sure _what_ to explain. _I’m super into you and can’t look at you undressing without getting hard?_ Probably not what he wants to hear inside his childhood ice rink. Then again, Viktor wasn’t precisely subtle before arriving in Hasetsu.

Besides, he’d told Yuuri they would have plenty of time _later_. Two days does not count as later.

When Yuuri squirms a little, Viktor thinks he wants to be released. Instead, Yuuri’s arms wind around his neck, his eyes wide and sparkling as he pulls Viktor close again.

“Kiss me?”

Viktor blinks.

“Please?”

How could he resist? Yuuri probably intended for it to be sweet, something light before they make their way to Minako’s studio. Somehow, Viktor finds himself licking into Yuuri’s mouth desperately, lungs burning as Yuuri makes a small noise of enthusiasm. He wraps his arms around the small of Yuuri’s back, all but lifts him into the kiss as Yuuri’s fingers twist in his hair. He stumbles to the now closed door to the locker room, groaning when Yuuri arches into him.

It’s the sweetest temptation, knowing they’re alone, that the door can be locked from the inside. Yuuri smells so good, his hair still damp when Viktor drags his hands up and down his back and neck, fingers curling for a moment in dark strands. Yuuri softens from the touch, somehow, pliant against Viktor’s body.

It would be so easy to slip through the door, let the heat coursing through him find release-

Someone coughs, and Viktor freezes. He blinks at Yuuri who still looks dazed, lips already a little swollen and glistening. It’s a beautiful sight, and a small part of Viktor – or perhaps the major part – wishes that whoever caught them will move on and leave them alone.

Then, Yuuri looks past him and shrieks.

It’s a cute shriek, Yuuri shrinking in on himself as if hiding behind Viktor. He can’t help but preen a little, straightening up as he half-turns to their uninvited spectator.

Ah, it’s Nishigori. The husband. Viktor doesn’t know much more about him than that fact, but the shit-eating grin on his broad face suggests he enjoys teasing Yuuri. Sure enough he says something in Japanese that has Yuuri grumbling, regretfully pushing Viktor to a more appropriate distance.

He almost pulls Yuuri against him again, but that’s a little too much, isn’t it? Viktor is not the jealous type, not really. He just craves contact. He is, however, absolutely going to learn Japanese just so he can understand what’s going on.

“Let’s go, Viktor,” Yuuri says with puffed cheeks, too adorable for this world.

Nishigori only laughs, hands at his sides and then slapping Viktor on the back when he passes.

“Sorry for that!” he shouts through the laughter, Yuuri throwing him a glare that only makes him laugh harder.

“What was so funny?” he asks once Nishigori is behind them, Yuuri stomping towards the exit.

“Nothing!”

“No?”

Viktor nudges him, and Yuuri nudges back, and before it can turn into an all out war Yuuri runs ahead with a cheeky little grin. It’s an obvious attempt at avoiding having to answer, and yet Viktor follows helplessly.

By the time they reach Minako’s studio he’s embarrassingly out of breath.

 

♡♡♡

 

Yuuri has to wonder if Viktor is punishing him for making him run so fast to the studio. That’s how it feels, at least, on their twentieth run-through of the opening sequence to On Love: Agape.

“Viktor,” he sighs, when yet again Viktor corrects his posture with a frown. “Shouldn’t we be focusing on the parts I _don’t_ know?”

“You can’t rush perfection,” Viktor tells him, even though Yuuri certainly rushed the programs for last weekend and Viktor seemed to think he was perfect _then_. “And we have the whole day, no? Don’t tell me you tired yourself out by running so fast.”

Ah, he was right. This _is_ punishment.

“One more time.”

By lunch they’re only a third through the program, and even though Yuuri is thrilled to work with Viktor, is thrilled to present these new programs at the final, there are only so many times he can be touched by his boyfriend before feeling _frustrated._

If he’s allowed to call him boyfriend.

Yuuri thinks he should be, even if Viktor seems entirely unperturbed by the kiss they’d shared at the rink. For Yuuri, the memory still draws shivers out of him, makes his skin tingle every time they touch. If only Nishigori hadn’t interrupted them… Yuuri doesn’t care if their first time together is in a locker room or even a broom closet as long he gets to feel Viktor’s warm hands on him, touching where he needs them the most. He just doesn’t know how to _tell_ Viktor this. Though, perhaps he draws the line at a love hotel. Word travels fast in small towns and Hasetsu’s only love hotel is run by a previous classmate of Mari’s.

“Yuuri?”

He’s fully aware that he’s slouching too much as he goes through his cool-down stretches, Viktor looking far too composed for someone who should be kissing him (preferably right now).

“I got a text from Yura that lunch is ready.”

“Okay.”

“It seems he didn’t finish his homework, surprisingly.”

Smiling, Yuuri switches position, ankle secured against the barre and upper body pressed against his leg. There’s a hitch of breath behind him, which is – _nice_. He presses down a little more, and if that makes his ass push a little towards Viktor, well. He truly does need to stretch properly after such a brutal session. Closing his eyes, he imagines Viktor stepping close, hand at the small of his back. He’d slip it underneath Yuuri’s shirt, drag his palm along Yuuri’s spine, and he should probably stop thinking about it unless he wants an embarrassing problem to deal with.

“I, uh, remembered I need to ask Minako something,” Viktor mumbles, and soon after the door to the studio opens and closes behind him.

Heaving a sigh, Yuuri takes pity on his body and eases out of the stretch. If it weren’t for all the facts pointing to the opposite, Yuuri would think Viktor was shy. _We’ll have plenty of time later_. Yuuri scoffs. At this rate he’ll become as shameless as Chris. Speaking of, Yuuri has a couple messages from him that he’s been ignoring, mostly because Chris tends to send him pictures of himself in various states of undress, asking his opinion on outfits. He doesn’t want Viktor to accidentally see them, thinking they have some kind of thing going on when Chris was just like that. He really should tell him to stop sending those pictures.

 _I have a boyfriend now_ , he thinks, the thrill rushing through him at the thought enough to make him squeal into his hands. At least sort of boyfriend. At least until the final.

He sits down by his bag, pushing his ballet slippers into it and digging out his sweater. There’s no point in changing when they’ll just go back after eating, and he considers leaving the bag in the studio. He does _not_ consider what will happen after the final. His phone vibrates, and Yuuri pulls it out to find a text message from Phichit. It’s rare for him to use _actual_ texting and not an app.

 

_12:15_

[I’M SORRY!!!!! Unless it worked, bc then I’m not sorry. BUT I REALLY AM SORRY PLS DON’T MURDER ME] 

 

Yuuri stares down at the message, stares out the window at the cloudy November sky, and decides he doesn’t want to know.

 

♡♡♡

 

“Dad, can I have my phone back?”

“No.”

“Dad, please?”

“Sorry, but no.”

“I need my phone!”

“Well, you never finished your homework, did you?”

Yuuri shifts his eyes between Viktor and Yuri, following the debate that’s been going back and forth at least three times already during lunch. Yuri looks increasingly angry, having tried anything from pleading to demanding to arguing. For some reason, Viktor refuses to budge.

If this has something to do with whatever Phichit apologized for, Yuuri still doesn’t want to know.

“But it’s lunch now!”

Yuri then switches to Russian, though Viktor keeps up the stern set of his mouth as he eats. It’s another five minutes of arguing, and then Mari nudges Yuuri’s arm.

‘Should you do something?’ she asks, as Yuri gets increasingly louder.

‘I don’t know…’

Should he? Yuuri isn’t sure what protocol is for this. His parents are busy, so it’s just the five of them, and Viktor keeps sending him apologetic looks.

‘You can tell him Phichit deleted the poll, if he worries about that.’

‘What poll?’ The words leave his mouth before he can stop himself, and he groans inwardly. ‘Actually, don’t tell me.’

Mari’s mouth curls into a sly grin at that, and she leans a little closer, lowering her voice despite using Japanese.

‘I’ll bet you a thousand yen that’s what had Viktor running off to the bathroom at breakfast.’

He swats at her, crushing the burning curiosity he feels. He’s learnt from experience not to look at things online if they involve him somehow. _Especially_ if Phichit is behind it.

‘I still don’t want to know.’

Yuri is poking at his food now, and even the cat ears on his hoodie seem to be drooping. He’s been wearing it almost constantly, and now that Yuuri thinks about it, he never did get his medal back.

“I just want to update my twitter,” Yuri mutters, shoulders hunched, stabbing a piece of fried chicken with both chopsticks.

It makes Viktor sigh, and then Mari nudges him again, and so Yuuri clears his throat.

“You could… post something on my account?”

Yuri’s head whips up so fast that Yuuri almost winces at it, his eyes wide and filled with hope.

“Really? I can? I really can?”

A glance shows that Viktor doesn’t look entirely opposed to the idea, and Yuuri nods.

“Yes!” Yuri jumps to his feet, pumping his fist. “I know exactly what I want to post! No, wait, maybe I should…”

He starts mumbling to himself, tapping his finger to his mouth like Yuuri’s seen Viktor do countless times. Viktor clears his throat, setting down his chopsticks with care.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he says, and Yuri glares at him. “It’ll have to be something quick.”

It has Yuri replying with something scathing in Russian, Viktor’s pursing his lips.

“With the medals?” Mari suggests, nodding towards the glass cabinet in the corner.

Before Yuuri has time to disagree, Yuri practically runs over to it, skidding to a halt with shining eyes.

“You never showed me!” he says, pressing his nose against the glass as he eagerly maps out the contents. “We should make it a video.”

Oh god. Stammering out a half-hearted protest, Yuuri is promptly guided towards the cabinet by Mari, who also confiscates his phone.

“You should start a youtube channel, like Phichit,” she says, but Yuuri manages to push the idea down before Yuri could start trying to convince him.

He’s had a lot of practice stopping Phichit from simply making one for him.

“If you post it on instagram instead of twitter you can record longer,” Viktor suggests, and Yuri nods as if Viktor is temporarily forgiven.

It’s Yuuri’s turn to glare, instead.

He’s got no choice but to resign himself to his fate, however, as Mari unlocks the cabinet and Yuri starts inspecting the medals, picking which ones to showcase in detail.

“The Olympic bronze medal,” he breathes in awe, fingertips gently touching it.

“Let’s, um, let’s just get it over with?”

No one listens to Yuuri anymore as Mari points out which medal is which, Yuri and Viktor watching with rapt attention.

“Yuuri brings them to Nationals,” Mari tells them, “or gives them to Minako. I think we have almost all?”

She looks at Yuuri then, who sighs and nods.

“Minako-sensei came to visit me in summer, so it’s just the latest ones that aren’t here.”

“You don’t want to keep them in Detroit?” Viktor asks, but Yuuri makes a grimace.

“I don’t think there’s a point. And mom likes to keep them here for the guests…”

“We get many foreigners, too,” Mari explains. “They want to see Yuuri’s home.”

Viktor looks impressed, but Yuuri’s sure there aren’t as many as his mom says when she calls. Hasetsu isn’t precisely a popular tourist spot, though he hopes he can help somehow in keeping the onsen afloat.

“We had to close for the week because too many calls,” Mari continues, and Yuuri blanches.

“What?!”

‘Oh don’t worry about it, once you leave we’ll have a TV crew here doing a special about your childhood.’

“You will _what_?!”

“What?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri realizes Mari said the last part in Japanese.

‘Mari, you can’t just- just make a documentary about my childhood when I’m not even here!’

‘Relax, they just want some footage from around here. They might interview some of your classmates, though.’

Yuuri claps his hands over his face, groaning out loud. This is terrible. How can his parents do this to him?! Wasn’t it enough when they had a special Olympic viewing at his old high school? Or when he medaled at Junior Worlds the first time and the mayor invited him as a special guest to judge a ramen competition (making a special section of it a katsudon competition instead to his honor. He’s been invited every year since, but sadly he hasn’t been able to fly over since he can’t motivate the cost even for unlimited katsudon).

‘Why would anyone want to watch that,’ he mutters, letting out an awkward laugh when both Viktor and Yuri watch him curiously. “Ah, let’s work on the video!”

If it brings in money to the onsen, he supposes he can look the other way just this once.

It takes a few minutes for Yuri to arrange everything to his liking, and Mari goes and gets them the green robes they usually lend to guests. In the end Yuuri stands before his medal cabinet, robe on and glasses off, trying desperately to find that state of mind he reserves for actual interviews so he won’t stumble on his words too much.

“Ready?” Viktor asks, because of course he’s in charge of recording, Mari hovering behind his shoulder.

“Ready!” Yuri decides, face set with determination as he corrects his much too large robe for the umpteenth time.

“Sure…”

Mari rolls her eyes at his lack of enthusiasm, handing Yuri a microphone from their very old karaoke set. He takes it with shining eyes, grinning wide before catching himself and carefully schooling his face into what’s probably meant to be a serious reporter face. Mostly, he looks like a child playing dress-up in adult clothes, but it’s unsurprisingly endearing.

“Three, two, one,” Viktor counts down, bringing his hand down to show he’s started the recording.

“Hello everyone, this is Yuri Plisetsky! I’m standing here with Katsuki Yuuri, Olympic champion and world record holder of the free skate and total score, in his parents’ onsen in Hasetsu,” Yuri starts, turning from the camera towards him.

“Yuuri, behind us is almost every medal you’ve ever won.”

“Ah, that’s correct.”

“Let’s take a look!”

Yuuri has to admit, Yuri would make a pretty good reporter. He takes a step back as Yuri opens the cabinet with flair, Viktor making sure to get closer for a sweeping view of the collection. Mari looks way too amused by the whole thing, and he manages to send her a glare before Viktor walks back to have both him and Yuri in view again.

“Yuuri, the fans have a lot of questions. Everyone wants to know, which is your favorite medal?”

He can’t help blushing a little, doing as hastily scripted and taking one medal out of its spot in the cabinet.

“It’s probably the gold medal from Junior Worlds,” he says, awkwardly holding it out for Viktor to zoom in on. “It made me think I could really compete at a high level, so it motivated me when I had just moved to Detroit.”

“I see.”

Yuri nods, the combo of his serious face and the fake microphone and the robe almost making Yuuri laugh. He forces his mouth to stop twitching, though he can tell Mari is already laughing into her hands.

“Can you show us your bronze medal from the Olympics?”

“Um, okay.”

Biting his lip, Yuuri almost drops the medal as he takes it out. He can tell that if they weren’t recording, Yuri would have mostly likely scolded him for it.

“You skated to a soundtrack from East of Eden in your short program, did you think afterwards that you might win a medal?”

“Ah, well, no, I mean of course I wanted to, but it was a really tough competition and I was in fifth place after the short, so…”

The interview goes on in much the same way, until they finish with Yuri saying _thanks for watching!_ and Viktor decides to not stop the video just yet.

“No, no! Let’s do it in a more fun way!” he says, handing the phone to Mari and coming over. “Yuuri, you can lift Yura!”

He does, reluctantly, bridal style on Viktor’s command. And then he squeaks because Viktor lifts _both_ of them, Yuri awkwardly squished in Yuuri’s arms but somehow they don’t topple over and die.

“Let’s say it together then! Thanks for watching!”

All but deceased from embarrassment (and possibly a little excited at the thought of Viktor lifting him so easily), Yuuri manages to force out the words.

“Wow,” Mari says, not lowering the phone even though she must have stopped recording. “I think I will put this on the wall.”

 _“What_ ,” he squeaks, because today it seems to be the only way he can communicate.

‘It’ll do until we get wedding photos,’ she adds, and only the fact that Viktor still carries him keeps him from lunging at her.

‘Not! Official!’ he reminds her but she pretends not to hear, which he should have expected, honestly.

She keeps tapping on his phone screen, and then Viktor _finally_ lets him down, and Yuri races over to her to check what’s most likely pictures she took. Yuuri heaves a sigh, glad to have it over with, but Viktor sneaks an arm around his waist and pulls him close.

“You looked _so_ cute,” he says, kissing his temple, and Yuuri buries his face in his arms.

He’s not sure he’s going to survive having a boyfriend.

 

♡♡♡

 

Phichit Chulanont, master of all social media, all but cries in relief when his poll is completely forgotten in comparison to a few precious minutes of Yuuri and Yuri on camera together. And the lift at the end? Phichit sends another picture to Viktor in thanks, this time a rare swimming pool photo he’s been saving for a special occasion.

If they don’t let him have at least half an hour for his speech at the wedding he’ll be extremely disappointed.

 

♡♡♡

 

Yuuri heaves a sigh of true bliss as he lowers himself into the hot water. It’s past eleven in the evening, and his poor body is upset at him for dancing an entire day. They’d had dinner at the studio, eaten quickly through a continued discussion on choreography, and Yuuri was almost able to forget all about his sexual frustration as they worked.

Tomorrow will be spent on the ice, but for now he can enjoy the heat of the outdoor baths. It would be slightly more relaxing if he wasn’t hyper aware of the fact that Viktor will join him soon. He’s gone to check on Yuri, who seems to have managed well in avoiding his homework. He can’t imagine how tough it must be, to be a single parent and work so much.

And still, Viktor takes time out of his life to help Yuuri. He’s a great help, too, much better at instructing him than the choreographers he’s worked with in the past. Maybe it helps that Yuuri isn’t so worried about disagreeing, Viktor encouraging it even.

They’d had a very passionate debate over whether or not Yuuri should do a certain move with his arms towards the left or the right, for example. It had ended in an impromptu tango around the studio, Viktor laughing brightly as Yuuri dipped him. Just thinking about it makes his cheeks heat up, and he dips a little lower in the water. He loves that Viktor can be super serious one moment and then goof off with him the next. It takes away some of the pressure.

He puts his hands over his cheeks, fighting down the silly smile that wants to take shape. He doesn’t want the final to arrive, wants to keep Viktor with him forever. It’s lucky that the few guests they have are all asleep, letting him have the place to himself. And, as nervous as it makes him, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to see Viktor naked. While he’s got no expectations, and though it’s strictly forbidden to do anything intimate in the pools, he can’t help but let his mind wander for a glorious minute. There’s no harm in dreaming, is there? Perhaps he’ll boldly slide onto Viktor’s lap, or Viktor would sit on the edge with Yuuri kneeling on the carved-out seat between his legs. There’s no need to be careful in his thoughts, and he’s all alone where no one can see him drool a bit.

Viktor arrives just as he imagines licking water droplets off his thigh and hip, sliding the doors open with a happy call of his name.

“Yuuuuri! You weren’t supposed to get in without me!”

Yuuri nosedives into the water, hands smacking over his eyes. It’s way too warm against his face, but he endures for all of three seconds before resurfacing with a gasp.

“Yuuri, are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shakes his head, then hurries to nod instead.

“Fine! I’m fine!” he says, frantically rubbing water out of his eyes but refusing to open them.

He can hear Viktor wade towards him. The water probably doesn’t reach him more than mid-thigh, and Yuuri tries very hard not to think about Viktor’s dick at perfect eye-level. It’s not easy when he’s just spent time vividly imagining it, but he persists.

“Are you sure?” Viktor asks, sitting down beside him. “You didn’t burn your eyes?”

“I’m okay.”

He’s anything but okay.

“Hmm, if you say so.”

Viktor leans back, letting out a pleased noise. When Yuuri dares to peek at him he finds him with closed eyes, head tilted back to rest against the smooth rocks atop the edge of the pool. It’s made to look carved out straight from the rock, though the edges and rocks have been polished, and there are decorative bushes and trees planted around it. There is, coincidentally, also a huge traditional statue of a raccoon behind them. Yuuri tries not to think about the symbolism, or of the Tengu mask hanging on the wall by the doors. It doesn’t matter if Viktor is well endowed or not, but…

Yuuri just has this feeling that he really, really _is_.

With the only light coming from a few lanterns, Viktor’s face is half in shadow. It’s quiet aside from the pouring of the fountain in the middle, the frog that Yuuri used to be afraid of as a kid sitting on top of it. He used to think it could read his thoughts as he entered the pool, and so he always apologized when leaving. It was probably Mari’s fault, somehow.

“I hope you’re not too sore,” Viktor says, and Yuuri’s mind takes an instant dip into fantasy land again.

He shakes his head, not trusting his voice, but Viktor opens an eye in question.

“No,” he forces out, unable to stop himself from glancing down at Viktor’s collarbones and the top of his well-defined chest.

God, Yuuri could sleep on him, probably.

“I have at least thirty emails to reply to,” Viktor sighs, pouting a little. “Too bad I can’t bring my computer out here.”

“You shouldn’t sit for too long, anyway.”

“Yuuuri, let me dream.”

Viktor elbows him when he snorts, and Yuuri almost shivers at the contact. He is again reminded of the fact that they’re both naked, completely alone. The knowledge takes up permanent residence under his skin, making it crawl impatiently, fingers itching to reach out and see if Viktor’s skin is as smooth as it looks. He can feel Viktor’s eyes on him now, and he keeps his gaze steady – at least somewhat steady – on the fountain. The silence feels loaded, like Viktor is working up to something, and _oh_ Yuuri hopes it’s a kiss.

“So, um, I should probably tell you that Phichit has been sending me pictures.”

Of all the things Yuuri expected, that was certainly not it. Viktor is rubbing his neck, a light grimace on his face.

“I just thought you should know.”

“Why?” Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if this is one of those instances where he _shouldn’t_ have asked his best friend for help. “Did he send something weird?”

“Ah, no. But he did post-“

Yuuri holds up his hand, silencing him.

“I don’t want to know. Really. But feel free to scold him.”

Raising his eyebrows, Viktor stares at him for a moment. Yuuri squirms under the scrutiny, wondering how bad it could be if Viktor is bringing it up.

“You know that he posts pictures of you under fan accounts?”

Wincing, Yuuri nods. He knows, he just tries to _forget_.

“I’m bad at using my accounts, and I accidentally gave him free reign when I was drunk once.”

“Should that really count?” Viktor frowns, but Yuuri makes a _what-can-you-do_ face at him.

“It’s usually fine.”

Viktor looks torn, shifting a little.

“He, uh, posted one of the pictures. You look very… seductive.”

“Seductive?”

Yuuri blinks at him, bewildered. He can’t remember ever looking seductive in any pictures Phichit had taken of him. Usually he just looks terrible.

“Yes.”

“Me?”

“Very seductive.”

“But…” Yuuri frowns, because his mind is still refusing to leave the gutter, and Viktor just called him seductive, and even so they haven’t even had a proper make-out session. “I haven’t managed to seduce _you_.”

The words leave his mouth before he can think better of it, and he snaps it shut with horror. For some reason Viktor stares at him, slack-jawed with shock. Of course Yuuri was stupid to think Viktor _really_ thought him seductive. He probably just said it to be nice. There’s not a single seductive bone in his entire body, and he should just crawl under a rock and _die_.

Viktor’s hands shoot out to cradle his face, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Yuuri,” he says seriously, “how could you possibly think that.”

There’s a hard lump in his throat, but Viktor won’t let him go. And honestly, everything in Yuuri screams to make excuses, to forget about the whole thing, but he’s also _tired_. It hasn’t even been a week and Yuuri craves Viktor’s touch, craves any sort of validation that Viktor wants him as much as Yuuri wants him.

Words just aren’t enough.

“How could I possibly think I _have_ ,” he retorts, swallowing against the dryness in his mouth.

A pained look crosses over Viktor’s face, but Yuuri shakes out of his hold.

“I know you like me,” he says quietly, blushing something fierce. “I just-“

He’s interrupted by Viktor gathering him into his arms, almost squishing him against his chest. They’re touching in so many places that whatever Yuuri was about to say shrivels up and dies, his legs slung over Viktor’s and his cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“Solnyshko,” Viktor mumbles, “I don’t think _like_ is a strong enough word.”

Oh.

Yuuri curls into Viktor’s body, feeling all sorts of pathetic but also highly enjoying this turn of events.

“I told you, didn’t I? I don’t want your family thinking I can’t put focus on the competition. And what would your coach say if I kept distracting you with sex?”

He can’t believe Viktor says it out loud, just like that.

“I wouldn’t _tell_ them,” he tries, and Viktor laughs low in his throat.

“And you think I know how to be subtle?”

It has Yuuri frowning again, trying to figure out what really has Viktor so reluctant to be seduced.

“Besides,” Viktor continues. “I really wouldn’t want Yura walking in on us.”

“He’s asleep,” is the first thing out of Yuuri’s mouth, when he should be apologizing. “I’m sorry! I’m being pushy, it’s just really hard to concentrate when I keep thinking about it and it feels so good when you touch me and I’m really terrible because I can’t stop imagining things and-“

He takes a breath, fully intent on continuing his rant when Viktor cuts him off with a finger over his lips.

“Zolotse, how important is this competition to your career?”

Yuuri snaps his mouth shut, lips thinning to a line.

“Well?”

“Important,” he mutters, and Viktor removes his finger, instead finding one of Yuuri’s hands and lacing their fingers together.

“I… know it might be a little early to talk about these things,” Viktor says, and Yuuri’s surprised to find _him_ blushing now. “But you’re not just a passing fling to me, Yuuri. “

He pauses, lifting Yuuri’s hand to kiss him there, and suddenly Yuuri can’t breathe. Viktor’s touch is the only thing keeping him grounded, heart beating frantically in his chest.

“I want to prove to you that I’m serious about this, so I won’t let you slack off. Unless you plan on letting me go once the competition is over, we’ll have time for more pleasurable things later, no?”

Is Viktor ever going to stop being so considerate of him? Yuuri loves it, but he also hates it. Yuuri is going to have to go back to his room alone and get off all on his own when Viktor is _right there_.

“I’m not letting you go,” he says, squeezing Viktor’s hand hard. “I couldn’t.”

Viktor’s smile is sweet and much too brittle, eyes soft when Yuuri touches his cheek.

“I hope so.”

Yuuri decides they’re long overdue for that kiss.

 

♡♡♡

 

 _11:45  
_ [ _Did you see this?_ ]

[ _link_ ]

[ _I want you to know I voted for option D of course ;)_ ]

_12:30_  
[ _I should have known it was Phichit! I must thank him_ ]

[ _But he deleted the post so I am graciously providing you screenshots_ ]

[ _image_ ]

[ _image_ ]

[ _You look fantastic chéri, how jealous I am of that Viktor of yours…_ ]

 

 _14:10_  
[ _While I’m on the topic, what do you think of my brand new gym shorts?_ ]

[ _image_ ]

 

23:59  
[ _Chris, how is that on the same topic?_ ]

[ _Also please stop sending me underwear pictures_ ]

 

00:05  
[ _On the topic of looking good!_ ]

[ _Why? Will your boyfriend get jealous? ;3;_ ]

 

00:07  
[ _Yes._ ]

 

00:07  
[ _!!!!!!!_ ]

[ _#viktuuri confirmed!_ ]

 

♡♡♡

 

**@christophe-gc**

_When your friend tells you to stop sending him underwear pics bc he’s got a bf now… They’re gym shorts! Tell your bf that!_

_[image]_

**@christophe-gc**

_Better yet, tell your bf I’ll happily send him the same pic, he’s hot! @ you know who you are ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed Yuuri's SP for the Olympics from Tatsuki Machida, you can watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lI3XASJeZAI)! 
> 
> Looks like they're finally communicating a bit! But there's still a final round to go, so who knows... :3 
> 
> I also recently posted the first chapter of a new short fic called [For You, My Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696565/chapters/33960729)! Please check it out if you haven't, it's a royal + ice mage au with secret lovers trope! （´・｀ ）♡


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round 2.5 – A blast to the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update some other stories first, but I had writer's block and only managed to write on this one. It was supposed to be a short in-between chapter... I should have known better.
> 
> I'm still working on catching up to reviews - sorry about that! 
> 
> Today is the first day I'm not melting from the heat, I hope you've all had a great summer so far! Or winter, depending on where you live:p I hope you like this chapter!

Yuuri does his best to focus on the upcoming competition. It’s not easy, but he endures. It does help that both he and Viktor fall into bed (separately) completely exhausted, and Yuri acts as a great buffer between them whenever they get a little too handsy.

He should be feeling fine, but as two days pass Yuuri’s thoughts turn doubtful again. What if he messes up at the final and Viktor decides he’s not good enough? What if they finally have sex and Yuuri sucks at it? It was much easier when he could just go with the flow, not thinking too much – like this, trying to talk himself out of melting into Viktor’s touch at all times of the day, it’s easy to let his thoughts stray into less pleasant territory.

Bright and early, Yuuri finds himself jogging towards Ice Castle Hasetsu. The clouds hang heavy in the dark sky, the wind biting at his face and ears. He tries to focus on that feeling the whole way, counting under his breath to keep a steady pace. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

He just needs to be alone for a moment. Viktor is such a large presence, and things have been hectic to say the least. He’d woken up much too early (if he’d even slept at all), and his frazzled nerves screamed for the ice to calm him down. An hour or two. Just enough to settle into himself again, to get used to Viktor’s touches branded on his skin.

Flicking on the lights, he takes extra care to lace up his skates. The routine grounds him, brings him back to his school days when only skating could calm him down before important tests. He may have forgotten his love for competing, but he doesn’t think he could ever forget his love for the ice. It’s a part of him, an extended limb he needs for balance. He wonders if ballet is like that for Viktor.

When he steps onto the ice it’s like releasing a breath. For a moment he simply stands there, staring out the windows even though all he can see is the inside of the rink reflected in them. He sees himself, a blurred shape outlined against the boards, and can’t help but feel like something’s missing.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, resisting the urge to call Viktor.

Instead he begins to carve patterns into the ice, slow and absentminded as he glides back and forth in silence. There’s so much to think about. Mostly he wants to think about Viktor. Viktor’s hands, Viktor’s voice, the way he smiles… All the little things that Viktor does to make him happy. Because he _is_ happy, isn’t he? Despite the stress and the doubt that creeps up on him, Yuuri wakes up every day with his chest clenching pleasantly, and goes to bed with lips tingling from goodnight kisses.

It just feels a little too good to be true, is all.

“-uuri? Yuuri!”

Startled, Yuuri almost digs his toepick into the ice and falls flat on his face. As it is he manages to flail for a second, heart beating wildly as he turns to see Yuuko grinning at him before slapping him lightly on the arm.

“Wow, Yuuri! You sure were deep in thought!”

“Yuuko,” he groans, slumping his shoulders. “You really scared me, you know.”

“Oops!” She doesn’t look sorry at all, clasping her hands behind her back and tilting her head cutely. “So what were you thinking about, hmm?”

“What? Nothing!”

When she raises an eyebrow, Yuuri starts looking for an escape route. Sadly he won’t get far in skates.

“Oh well, let’s just skate a bit, then?” Deceptively easily placated, Yuuko starts circling him. “Just like the old times!”

As they skate side by side around the rink, Yuuri is reminded of the brief fantasies he’d had as a kid of the two of them doing pair skating together. They could have probably made it to the international level, if Yuuri could get over the fear of actually throwing another person across the ice.

“It’s certainly been a while,” Yuuko hums after a lap or two, turning to skate backwards so she can look at him properly. “But Ice Castle Hasetsu really is the best rink in the world, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if I would have continued skating if I only trained here.”

“Sometimes change is good.”

“Yuuri! You’ve grown so much!” She ducks when Yuuri swats at her, speeding up with a bright laugh. “I remember a certain someone bawling his eyes out when it was time to leave.”

“You don’t have to mock me,” Yuuri complains, but he smiles, too.

He doesn’t want to admit how terribly he misses this place, or how much he’s forced himself not to think about it. Coming back is less difficult than he’d thought. They spend some time like that, sharing old memories and thinking back on all the times they sat in front of the TV there in the rink, watching competitions with stars in their eyes.

In hindsight, Yuuri should have seen it coming a mile away.

“That reminds me,” Yuuko starts, an impish smile on her lips. “Do you still have all those posters in your room?”

“No,” Yuuri says, clearing his throat. “I took them down.”

“Aww, that’s cute. You don’t want Viktor to be jealous.”

“He’s got nothing to be jealous over!”

Yuuko stops, hands on her hips and oh, this can’t be good.

“Then can I have the posters?”

“Huh?” Yuuri blinks at her, forcing down the violent _no_ that wants to come out. “Why should I give you my posters?”

“Well, if you don’t like Stéphane anymore-“

“I never said I don’t like him anymore.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up, slapping his hands over them. What’s so bad about keeping posters of your idol? So what if Yuuri used to have a crush on him? It was a totally innocent celebrity crush! Never mind the fact that they spent some time together at an ice show once.

“But isn’t he like, your ex?”

“No!”

“No?”

“Definitely not! Why would you even think that?”

Why are his friends like this? Yuuko pouts, tugging at her zipper. Still, he can see the humor dancing in her eyes, and sometimes he just hates being the youngest of the three of them.

“So I can tell Viktor all about how cute you were, gushing over him all the time?”

All the color drains from his face. God, no. He was the worst little fanboy – he’d rather let Mari show Viktor every single baby picture in existence.

“Yuuri, I’m joking!” Yuuko pats his head, mouth twitching with laughter. “Your secrets are safe with me. But you know I still haven’t forgiven you for not getting me that limited edition poster from your ice show.”

“I know,” he sighs, rolling his shoulders to keep them warm.

He’d been too scared to ask for an extra copy, and some things you just wanted to keep yourself. Especially signed things. He has no regrets.

“When you and Viktor get married I can adopt it from you.”

It’s unfortunate that Yuuko is immune to glares. Shaking his head with a sigh, Yuuri starts skating again.

“I worked my ass off for that poster,” he throws back, realizing a second later how terrible that sounded.

There’s just no winning with Yuuko, is there?

“Oh, Yuuri,” she says when he’s finally stopped dying from embarrassment, though he’s still lying sprawled on the ice like a groaning little wet sponge. “You should come up from there before Viktor thinks I did something terrible to you.”

Sure enough, Viktor is standing over by the entrance in the boards, watching them. He can’t quite make out the look on his face at this distance, but something settles in his chest, something warm and light.

“You know, he’s welcome to borrow skates,” Yuuko tells him as he scrambles to get up again, holding out a hand to help him up. “We do have skates in his size. I think.”

“Oh, that’s okay. He says he can’t skate.”

Yuuko lets out an incredulous little sound, as if Viktor not knowing how to skate never occurred to her.

“You’re getting married to someone who can’t skate?”

“We’re not-!” He draws in a calming breath, wondering how many times he’ll have to correct everyone. “What’s so strange about that, anyway?”

She looks at him, and okay, maybe Yuuri has forgotten to tell her just how much Viktor’s dancing has inspired him over the years.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” she sighs, pushing against the ice and making her way back towards Viktor.

“What can’t be helped?” he shouts after her, but she only waves at him to follow.

He only does so because Viktor is there.

♡♡♡

 

**Ten pictures that prove Yuuri Katsuki is dating Viktor Nikiforov**

So I know this has been done before, but listen. All the discourse about their relationship status is getting on my nerves. I know we’ve all been speculating like mad the past days, especially after the whole thing with Phichit’s poll, but for all you haters doubting their love, here’s a simple list of evidence for you.

**REMINDER** them dating doesn’t mean you can ask them invasive questions online! I see you nasty people and they deserve better!

[Keep reading]

_View all 168 comments_

 

 

**Discussion thread – Who do you think confessed first? #viktuuri**

 

_Marthy52_ : What do you mean Yuuri is too shy to confess first? Have you SEEN him on the ice? He’s got more guts in his little finger than anyone in this thread!!!

_Toepicked_ : It’s just speculation, no need to get angry

_OneSkateMan_ : Okay but have any of you met Yuuri irl? Bc then you’d know that it’s impossible not to confess every single feeling you’ve ever had for him on the spot. I vote Viktor.

_Sammy_Blue_ : Has anyone here been in an actual relationship? No one confesses their feelings, come on. You just start sleeping with each other and three months later it’s like, uh, we’re dating now aren’t we.

[Read more posts]

 

♡♡♡

 

On the way back to the onsen for lunch, they run into one of Yuuri’s classmates from high school. He doesn’t notice her at first, but she does a double take and walks backwards until she’s in front of them again.

‘Yuuri-kun!’

’Oh… Nishimura-san?’

’I didn’t know you were back in Hasetsu! It’s been so long, how are you?’

‘I’m good, thank you. Um…’ He turns to Viktor, giving him an apologetic look. “Viktor, this is my former classmate from high school, Nishimura Mai.”

“Hi! Nice to meet you!”

Viktor stretches his hand out, before seeming to catch himself and doing some kind of awkward bow with a glance at Yuuri. Nishimura giggles behind her hand, then gives him a quick hello.

‘Yuuri-kun, are you here on vacation? Oh, you have to meet everyone! Well, those of us who still live here. There’s a few of us still around! Did you know that Megumi-chan married Ooda-kun? Such a shock!’

She continues for a while about old classmates, and Yuuri winces internally. It was the same thing in high school – Nishimura talked and everyone listened. Well, she hadn’t talked much with Yuuri, since they weren’t technically in the same class during the final year when people started noticing him. He shares a look with Viktor, who listens with mild amusement.

‘Yuuri-kun, let’s exchange numbers! I’ll gather everyone and we can catch up tonight!'

‘Ah, I don’t know if-‘

‘Nonsense, everyone will be so happy to see you! Even Tamaki-kun is here, you two used to go out, right? He studied in Tokyo, but you already knew that.’ She waves her hand dismissively, ignoring the way Yuuri’s face turns an interesting shade of red. ‘Anyway I have to go, see you later!’

And off she goes, the ends of her thick scarf billowing behind her in the wind. Yuuri feels like he was just caught in some sort of tornado. He stares after her, realizing she never did get his number. Maybe that will save him.

God, he hasn’t even thought of Tamaki in years. Calling it _going out_ was definitely stretching it. They went to a café a few times before Yuuri chickened out and made up some dumb excuse that he had to train all the time since he was moving abroad. He doesn’t have _exes_.

“What did she want?” Viktor asks, startling him out of the embarrassing memory.

“Right, sorry about that. She’s impossible once she starts talking.” He rubs his neck, and they start walking again. “She wants to catch up, I guess? She said she’ll gather up some other people from high school tonight.”

“I see.”

“I don’t think I’ll go, though.”

Viktor gives him a questioning look, looping their arms together.

“I mean, we’re pretty dead on our feet when we’re done for the day.”

“Yuuri, you can afford a night off. They’re your friends, right? You should cherish old friends!”

“Not sure I’d call them friends,” he mutters, making a face. “We went to school together… do I really have to see them now, too?”

At least Viktor snorts at that, but something in his eyes tells Yuuri he’s not convinced.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go with you of course.”

Well, that’s that. They’re _definitely_ not going. He tries to convince Viktor that it’s a terrible idea, and that he’ll be left out anyway because he’s not sure how many of the others will want to talk in English. It doesn’t work. By the time they reach the onsen, Viktor has already rescheduled their day to leave room for an evening full of socializing.

Yuuri texts Yuuko and begs for help.

He doesn’t even receive her pity.

 

♡♡♡

 

**Ten reasons Katsuki Yuuri is obviously NOT dating his choreographer**

So tired of you guys screaming about relationships left and right. But you like lists, right? Well, here’s one for you! (P.S. if anyone else calls me a hater I will instantly block you)

  1. Viktor has a biological kid with a woman. We don’t even know if he’s gay! (Besides, when did Yuuri ever confirm his sexuality, hmm?)
  2. Even if he were gay, this is a Professional Arrangement. Get your facts checked.
  3. Friendship exists. Just saying.



[Keep reading]

_312 comments_

 

 

**Ten ways Katsuki Yuuri AND Viktor Nikiforov could step on me and I’d thank them for it**

  1. On my shadow. I’d cry from happiness
  2. On the back of my head as I grovel before them. Mmm yes
  3. My hand on Yuuri’s thigh while Viktor steps on it – it’s getting nsfw guys, just a heads up



[Keep reading]

_25 comments_

 

♡♡♡

 

Matsuda Tamaki is a rather ordinary person. He comes from a small town called Hasetsu, which people pitied him a little for at university. He studied in Tokyo, though it wasn’t at any of the most famous or well-renowned universities. He likes guys that are a little taller than him and hopes to one day go on a cruise in the Caribbean, and at the moment he lives with his parents to help care for his ill mother.

In high school he went on three dates with national treasure Katsuki Yuuri, though it’s not really something he brings up in conversation. After all, who wants to say _ah yes, Katsuki Yuuri dumped me after three dates_.

It’s the only thing in his life that isn’t ordinary.

And now, at this moment, he’s with Nishimura and a whole bunch of other people from high school that he didn’t really talk to much, waiting for that same Yuuri to arrive.

‘Isn’t twelve people a little much?’ he asks Nishimura, remembering how Yuuri never liked large crowds.

He can’t even believe that Yuuri agreed to see them. Unlike the rest, he actually follows figure skating news. Not because he can’t let go of an old crush though! Cheering for Yuuri just gives him something to do during the dull moments of long-distance work.

‘But everyone really wanted to come,’ she pouts, then claps her hands and smiles at him. ‘Isn’t this great? You two can reconnect!’

Unlike Nishimura, Tamaki tries to live a realistic life. Some might call him boring, but there’s nothing wrong with living a calm life, is there? No need to set yourself up for disappointment.

Prime example: the fact that Katsuki Yuuri is extremely out of his league, and now dates a man beautiful enough to stand next to him. At least according to rumor. Tamaki finds it more likely that the rumors are true than that Yuuri would ever have some sort of interest in him.

He shouldn’t have come.

A few minutes of nervous sipping at his beer later, a very tall foreigner enters the bar.

‘Oh!’ Nishimura exclaims. ‘It’s the guy I saw Yuuri-kun with!’

An excited murmur breaks out inside the bar as Yuuri follows the man, unwrapping his scarf and trying to defog his glasses. They exchange a few words, and then Yuuri searches the bar with glasses back on, and _oh._ Their eyes meet.

‘Wow, I wonder who the other guy is,’ Umeda asks from beside him, nudging his side. ‘A celebrity?’

‘I thought it was his personal trainer or something!’ Nishimura whispers, but then she waves and jumps up and down in her seat, calling them over.

Viktor Nikiforov – because it can only be him – leans in to whisper something in Yuuri’s ear, arm around his back to squeeze his arm. When they move, the hand stays.

‘I think that’s his boyfriend,’ he mumbles, and of course Nishimura has to repeat it in what’s more accurately described as yelling, and the whole table gapes as the two of them approach.

Up close, Viktor Nikiforov is – something. Tamaki tries not to look at either of them, but he can’t help glancing at Yuuri. He looks great. With his outer layers off, he looks better than great. The lamplight is soft on his hair and his slightly nervous smile is sweet, and when he does dare glance at Viktor he sees the wonder in his eyes, the complete adoration.

It’s easier, then. He can admit defeat to a man like that. Not that they were ever in competition, but Viktor is the kind of person that Yuuri would have dumped him for, surely.

After a round of introductions and drinks, Nishimura, as is her way, asks the question burning on everyone’s tongue.

‘Yuuri-kun, does Viktor-san have any single, good-looking brothers?’

Alright, maybe not the question burning on _everyone’s_ tongue, but he’ll take what he can get. Yuuri splutters, face a fiery red, and Tamaki does feel bad about it.

‘Nishimura, you shouldn’t joke like that,’ he sighs, and earns a scowl for his troubles. ‘I’m sure Yuuri-kun has better things to do than set you up with his celebrity friends.’

He also receives a thankful little smile from Yuuri, which, okay. He could live with the least ordinary thing in his life being having gone on three dates with Katsuki Yuuri. He wasn’t so happy about whether or not it was also being hated by Katsuki Yuuri, but it seems he isn’t despite the fact that Yuuri ran the other way every time they bumped into each other at school those last few weeks.

‘I’m afraid I’m in the middle of competition season,’ Yuuri says, and the conversation turns to figure skating instead.

It’s maybe an hour later, as Tamaki stands by the bar counter getting another beer, that Yuuri appears beside him.

‘Um, hi,’ Yuuri says, fiddling with his hands on top of the counter.

‘Hi. It’s been a while.’

Yuuri’s smile is a tiny, strained thing, but he glances up at Tamaki and seems to gather himself. Deep breaths, tense shoulders, and then he lifts his head with a determined look on his face.

‘I’m sorry about being so rude to you in high school,’ he says in a rush, leaving Tamaki utterly surprised. ‘It really wasn’t your fault.’

‘Ah, well, that’s fine.’

But Yuuri purses his lips, waiting for Tamaki to accept his beer from the bartender before continuing.

‘I just don’t want you thinking you did anything wrong. I’m terrible about confrontations… But I was happy when you asked me out.’

Wow. That did _not_ take a turn he expected. He sends a glance towards their group at the table, the hairs at the base of his neck standing on end when he finds Viktor staring at them with intensity.

‘Well, um, it’s in the past. And congratulations, I suppose.’ When Yuuri only looks at him in bewilderment, he adds, ‘your boyfriend I mean. He seems nice.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ Yuuri seems to relax, shoulders dropping and maintaining some proper eye contact. ‘I’m very lucky.’

Tamaki wouldn’t call it _luck_ , per se, but he’s not going to argue with Yuuri about it. Instead they exchange a few more pleasantries, laughing a little over old teachers, though Yuuri refuses his offer for a drink. It’s a little painful to see him so grown up. Yuuri in high school was shy and sweet, but he also held a single-minded determination for skating that left little room for noticing other things. Tamaki had written several confession notes, had invited him to group activities, and finally in a bout of desperation, cornered Yuuri on the way home one day and told him in plain terms that he wanted to take him on a date.

He’s fairly sure the only reason Yuuri hadn’t run away from him in sheer shock had been, well, the shock keeping him rooted to the spot.

Either way, for a few glorious weeks, Tamaki had had the honor of sort-of dating Hasetsu’s only celebrity, much to the seething jealousy of everyone else. His fifteen minutes of fame, he supposed. Seeing Yuuri now is a bittersweet mixture of thinking of what could have been, if Yuuri had been just a regular person that Tamaki was allowed to be near, and being in complete awe of what an amazing person he’s become. People talk about Yuuri, of course. He’s on the news whenever he competes. His lovely face adorns the walls at the train station. He’s the reason half the tourists they get even arrive. He’s-

A cleared throat breaks through his reveries, and Tamaki blinks up at _tall_ and _Russian_ , a shiver of dread trailing down his spine.

“Hi!” Viktor says, holding out his hand, and Tamaki shakes it numbly. “So you’re Yuuri’s ex-boyfriend?”

Someone makes a wounded noise, and he’s not sure if it’s him or Yuuri. Meanwhile Viktor keeps smiling, a sharp, jagged thing that reminds him of some very, very unpleasant things.

“Viktor, it’s not like that, we just- We just went on a few dates, um,” Yuuri babbles, and Tamaki’s not sure what possesses him to play with danger but he blurts the word out before he can think twice about it.

“Yes.”

Viktor’s eyes narrow. Tamaki straightens up a little. Yuuri, too flustered to make any sense, tugs at Viktor’s shirt.

“My name is Matsuda Tamaki,” he says, well aware that his accent is far from the americanized version of Yuuri’s soft tone, or Viktor’s intimidating Russian edges. “We dated in high school.”

“I see,” Viktor hums, tapping his mouth with one long, elegant finger.

Somehow, Tamaki feels as if Viktor just judged his entire existence with those single two words, and deemed him not much of a threat. Still. He does have some pride as a man, and smiles back politely.

“Of course, it was long ago.”

“Of course.”

“Are you done?” Yuuri sighs, seeming to have found his composure again.

Viktor turns to him, mouth shaping words that never come out, and then looks properly chastised. Tamaki can relate. Yuuri’s single sentence makes him feel like a dumb peacock, brandishing his feathers to prove his manliness. Then again, Viktor definitely started.

“I just came to check if you wanted to stay a bit longer. It’s been an hour already.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Yuuri grabs his phone from a pocket and checks the time.

“Oh, it has. Maybe we can stay a little longer?”

The way he tilts his head up and bats his eyelashes makes Viktor blush, and Tamaki watches in interest as the tall and intimidating Russian melts into a soft puppy. Yuuri does have that effect on people, he supposes. Even though he wasn’t noticed much in school before their final year, he’d always been considered a nice classmate. Someone who, mysteriously, made you do things for him without realizing it. It was impossible to disagree with him when he looked like that.

“Well, I mean, we’ll stay as long as you like,” Viktor says, fumbling with words, breath catching in his throat when Yuuri beams at him and steers him back towards the table.

Oh, Tamaki envies him for having Yuuri’s affection.

(But he will move on. Tomorrow, surely.)

♡♡♡

 

**@nishimura_22**

High school reunion! Nice meeting you again, **@yuri_katsuki** and boyfriend! (灬♥ω♥灬)

[image]

 

♡♡♡

 

“Viktor, were you jealous?”

Pausing mid-step, Viktor lets out a cough before moving again.

“Jealous? Of what, solnyshko?”

They’re heading back to the onsen, noses tucked into their scarves but hands stubbornly linked despite the cold evening. Hasetsu is quiet at night, the streetlights far between as they walk past closed shops. Their steps are loud in the silence, and Viktor winces as Yuuri sends him a sideways look.

“Of Matsuda,” Yuuri mumbles, pushing his scarf further up his face.

“Ah.” Viktor clears his throat, wondering what, exactly, made him so uncomfortable at seeing Yuuri laugh with his ex. “Maybe jealous is the wrong word.”

“You were asserting your dominance,” Yuuri nods to himself, looking up in surprise when Viktor stops completely.

“I was _what_ ,” he chokes out, heart pounding in his chest as Yuuri watches him in confusion.

“Is that the wrong expression? Phichit always talks about it. He says the hockey players do it all the time.”

Viktor is lost now. Hockey players, plural? Does Yuuri have a long line of exes he doesn’t know about? Maybe he dated an entire _team_. Perhaps some of the horror and confusion shows on his face, because suddenly Yuuri laughs, holding his stomach as if he can’t stop.

“I don’t get it,” Viktor admits, a sheepish smile on his lips as Yuuri wipes tears from his eyes. “Is it a hockey thing? I’ve never played hockey.”

Yuuri shakes his head, still succumbing to snorts of laughter when he leans in to pat Viktor’s cheek.

“You don’t have to worry about Matsuda,” he says, and Viktor holds him by the waist because how couldn’t he?

“I wasn’t worried.”

“You looked like you were going to fight him right there in the bar.”

“I was the definition of polite.”

Letting out a cute little huff, Yuuri leans his cheek on Viktor’s shoulder, and Viktor is going to fight every single Matsuda in the world if it means Yuuri hugs him like this afterwards.

“It was ages ago. He’s not even interested in me anymore.”

“Oh really.”

“It was three dates and then I never talked to him again.”

“I believe you. I just didn’t like it when he flirted with you.”

When Yuuri leans back it’s with a frown on his face. Viktor lifts a hand to carefully push a few strands of hair from his forehead, running his gloved fingers down the side of his face to cup the back of his neck.

“He wasn’t flirting with me. We were just catching up.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t believe me.” Those beautiful dark eyes narrow at him, and Viktor’s starting to hear alarms ringing in the back of his head. The last thing he wants is a fight because he was dumb enough to take Nishimura’s comment to heart. “Well?”

“I know _you_ weren’t flirting,” he tries, attempting a weak smile. “But any man with eyes would want to flirt with you.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, then closes it. In the semi-darkness it’s hard to make out the blush on his face, but Viktor’s smile widens as he catches it.

“I just prefer if it’s me flirting with you and not someone else.”

They look at each other, Yuuri’s eyes glittering under the streetlights as he takes a small step closer, scarf no longer covering his mouth. He feels warm in Viktor’s arms, warding off the chill in the air.

“I prefer that, too.”

Their faces are close, Viktor’s thumb stroking the spot under Yuuri’s ear for a few moments of silence. Even if their relationship is very new, it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like Yuuri has been there all along, patiently waiting for Viktor to catch up. Yuuri stands on his toes to bump their noses, bold where Viktor still hesitates sometimes, but Viktor holds him tighter and can’t help a smile.

“Did anyone tell you your father must have been a thief?” he mumbles, and Yuuri rolls his eyes.

Yuuri can be shy, but he’s never shy about touching, and sometimes Viktor suspects that lack of daylight makes him bolder.

“Any stars you see are just the light reflecting in my glasses,” Yuuri tells him, breath hitching a little at the end when Viktor plucks the glasses off his face.

“Hmm, nope. Still there,” he says, grinning when Yuuri attempts and fails to not look flattered. “Lucky me, to have the prettiest boyfriend in the world.”

There’s another hitch of breath, and Yuuri stands frozen in his hold, staring up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. He’s incredibly beautiful, the kind of beauty that slowly sneaks up on you before hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest, and then you thank it for smashing your ribs to pieces. He’s so lost in watching Yuuri’s face that he doesn’t notice how still he’s become, content to drink in the sight of him, committing him to memory.

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri half-sighs, half-groans, and then he buries his face in Viktor’s shoulder, slumping against him as if his strength suddenly failed him.

“Yes, zolotse moyo?”

Whatever Yuuri says it’s muffled against Viktor’s coat, a mumbled complaint that allows Viktor to discreetly smell his hair, Yuuri’s glasses dangling from his fingers. He almost drops them when Yuuri’s head shoots up, determination burning in his eyes as he buries his fingers in Viktor’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss. His noise of surprise disappears into Yuuri’s mouth, turns into a moan when Yuuri’s tongue finds his. Wearing a coat is too warm, his skin on fire as Yuuri tilts his head to kiss him deeper, limbs shaky and weak. His fingers twist around the fabric of Yuuri’s jacket, lungs struggling to keep up when Yuuri sucks on his bottom lip.

Viktor is so gone for this man, shivering when Yuuri’s thumbs press into his jaw. He wants Yuuri to consume him, wants to give him everything and more as long as he keeps kissing him like this. It’s as if every time they kiss, Yuuri has gotten better at it. Each touch is harder to let go of, and Viktor fears the day he has to take a plane back to Russia.

It feels like hours before Yuuri pulls away, Viktor’s heart beating furiously in his chest.  Yuuri’s eyes open slowly, and when they find Viktor’s he feels a jolt go through him. They’re in the middle of the street. There are faint voices coming from down the main street, noise that might as well not exist in this moment of just the two of them, holding each other.

“Viktor,” Yuuri sighs, his accent sweet around his name. “I want-“

“Ah, we should go back!”

He’s not sure what makes him turn, torn between what he was meant to be doing (which is not kissing Yuuri in the street) and what he really wants to do (kiss Yuuri a lot more in the street). He only makes it a few steps before there’s a tug on his sleeve, forcing him to stop.

“You’re running away again.”

There’s a lump in his throat, guilt and want warring with each other.

“I’m not running away,” he says, but he winces even as he says it. “We talked about this.”

“I know we did.” Yuuri’s still using that soft tone, fingers sneaking around his wrist for a more secure grip. “You gave me a lot of good reasons but, I can’t help but think-“

When he turns, Yuuri is fidgeting, avoiding his gaze. The past days, there haven’t precisely been close encounters like the one outside the locker room, but Viktor finds it impossible not to touch him, not to watch his body with too much interest. He’s been slowly boiling, distracted to the point where he thinks he might actually be fired for not keeping up with work. He wants and wants and it’s easy to tell that Yuuri wants him too, and yet.

 He cups Yuuri’s cheek, frowning as he tilts his head up. He’s still holding Yuuri’s glasses, nothing hiding the look in his eyes.

“You can’t help but think what?”

There’s a stubborn tilt to Yuuri’s mouth as he glances to the side before meeting him head-on again. It drives another jolt through Viktor’s body, and oh, he wants Yuuri to convince him, he _does_. It’s just…

Just what, exactly?

“That something bothers you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“I think it does. At first I thought it was me, but-“ Yuuri blushes, squeezing Viktor’s wrist. “You always get really into it, and then it’s like an afterthought. The running away part, I mean.”

And what is he supposed to say to that? Viktor still believes in the reasons he’s given, the respect he has for Yuuri’s skating and family and how they’re only in the beginning stages of their relationship–

He draws in a breath, Yuuri still watching him with his big, doe-like eyes that seem to see through his very soul. He keeps telling Yuuri that he wants his family to take him seriously, that he wants Yuuri to know that this is real to him, but maybe the person he’s trying to convince is himself? That he can do this. That he can be _serious_.

That he’s allowed and able to want someone and show them all parts of him, not just his naked body.

“What is it?” Yuuri asks, almost whispering. “Can I do something?”

Viktor inhales another breath, then sighs, shoulders sagging. He gently twists his wrist out of Yuuri’s hold and laces their fingers together instead, attempting a weak smile.

“I think,” he says, “that I need to tell you something.”

Yuuri nods, but he looks on the verge of panic. There’s a gust of cold wind, both of them shivering in it.

“It’s nothing bad. I just didn’t realize it was important to me.”

“Oh, sure. I mean, okay, that’s good, um.”

“Yuuuri,” Viktor teases, and this time the smile comes easier. “You’re the one who demanded an answer, you look so frightened now.”

“I just, well.”

There’s no helping it. Viktor puts the glasses back on his nose and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, pulling him in close and walking him slowly backwards towards the onsen despite his protests.

“I’m terrible at talking about my feelings,” Viktor tells him cheerfully, “but I will do it for you.

If he can make sense of them first, that is.

 

♡♡♡

**@mila_b**

**@v-nikiforov** **@yuri_katsuki** Congratulations, I think you singlehandedly broke the entire online skating community!

 

**@christophe_gc**

I wish my high school reunions broke the internet D:

 

♡♡♡

 

“Let’s talk in your room,” Viktor says when they get back, and Yuuri’s heart goes into overdrive.

It doesn’t matter that he knows that Viktor only means talking. There’s something about sneaking into his childhood bedroom late at night, everyone else asleep, that has his throat clogging up with nerves.

They walk through the quiet inn in silence, not bothering with lights. Viktor peeks into his own room to check on Yuri, a fond smile on his face when he closes the door. Yuuri can’t help but smile, too, and then he opens his door for Viktor and enters behind him. The walls are bare without posters, but there are clothes on his desk chair and a few knickknacks spread around that he hurries to shuffle away.

“Um, you can sit,” he says, lungs deflating when Viktor chooses the bed.

“Did you always have this room?” Viktor asks, looking around in interest despite having seen it before.

“I shared with Mari first. Her room, I mean. This was some kind of storage room before.”

Viktor nods slowly, a thoughtful look passing over his face. Yuuri doesn’t know what to do. He tries not to fidget, grabbing his chair and sitting down on it despite the shirts hanging over the back. His suitcase is open by the foot of the bed, everything a mess. Hopefully Viktor doesn’t mind.

“I’ve always wondered what having siblings is like.”

He can’t help the snort escaping him.

“It’s like… living with your best friend and sworn enemy at the same time. She likes to tease me a lot…”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Viktor grins, folding his legs and leaning an elbow on a knee. “Sometimes I think Yura would like a sibling, but then I imagine two of him, and that’s kind of…”

“A lot of work?”

“Too much work,” Viktor sighs, melancholic for a moment. “But I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

Yuuri wants to ask, but he doesn’t know how. He’s gotten the impression that Viktor and Yuri’s mother aren’t close, but were they? Had Viktor been married, or at least in love?

“I’m glad he likes you,” Viktor continues, quietly. “He seems much happier around you.”

“What? Really?”

The smile this time around his wry, unease spreading through Yuuri’s chest at the sight.

“I know you asked about something else, but I think I need to explain this too for you to understand. Yura… he doesn’t like when someone gets too close to me. It’s probably because of his mother.”

Holding his breath, Yuuri folds his hands in his lap and tries to stay as still as possible so that he won’t interrupt Viktor.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve figured out that Olesya and I aren’t exactly the best of friends. We’ve both done things we aren’t proud of. Yura is the one who had to suffer for it.”

“He loves you,” Yuuri can’t help but blurt out, which at least makes Viktor look a little happier.

“It took a while for that to happen, but I’m relieved we made it to here. I didn’t… well, I didn’t meet him until he was already four years old.”

Surprised, Yuuri waits for Viktor to elaborate. He’d thought – well, assumed really – that Viktor had been there for Yuri’s birth. He hadn’t precisely paid it much thought, but he supposes now that he’d guessed that Olesya was someone Viktor had been in love with and then it simply fell apart.

“He was an accident, to put it short, and I was a terrible person back then. Very immature. You would have hated me for sure.”

“You don’t know that,” he frowns, trying to imagine a young Viktor lacking all the things that made Yuuri like him now.

“It’s okay,” Viktor says lightly, but there’s something in his eyes that makes Yuuri’s chest squeeze painfully. “I know I wasn’t doing my best, but I didn’t really know better. Olesya didn’t want me there, anyway.”

“Were you together?”

A weird noise makes it out of Viktor’s mouth, something like a mixture of amusement and disgust.

“It was a drunk one-night-stand. I had lots of those back then. And when I found out she was pregnant, I swore off women forever.”

“Oh.”

“I realized I preferred men anyway, so it’s not like it was a great loss for me. And-“

Viktor pauses, shifting his position tensely. He glances at Yuuri, breathing in deep.

“My parents…” He trails off again, dragging a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Yuuri says, but Viktor shakes his head.

“I want to. I just haven’t really told anyone before, so it’s like, well, like showing you all the things I hate about myself.”

“Viktor…”

There’s no hint of a smile on Viktor’s face now, rather he’s tight-lipped and tense. Yuuri moves on autopilot, throat hurting from the lump forming there. He finds Viktor’s hand with his, and Viktor holds it a little too hard as he carefully sits down next to him.

“I only thought about ballet,” he whispers, seemingly lost in memories. “My parents gave her enough money to last a while, and she didn’t register me as the father.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, helplessly.

“Nothing to be done about it now,” Viktor attempts to joke, and Yuuri lifts his other hand to gently push a few strands of hair from covering his eye. “We’re both registered now, anyway, and I’m the only one who’s a legal guardian.”

The need to know what happened burns in Yuuri’s chest, but he stays quiet, letting Viktor go at his own pace. Whether or not it has anything to do with them sleeping with each other isn’t important. Yuuri wishes desperately that he could have been there for him, even though he would have basically been a child himself.

 “It’s why Yura’s patronym is Nikolaevich from his grandfather and not Viktorevich. I decided not to change it when I took over custody.”

“I see.”

“And of course why his family name is Plisetsky and not Nikiforov. It was too much paperwork on top of everything else at the time.”

Yuuri nods, and Viktor takes a moment to gather his thoughts. He looks worn-out like this, as if the usually faint dark circles under his eyes deepened from the subject. It’s a side of Viktor that Yuuri’s never seen before, self-deprecating and weighted down.

“When he was about four years old, Olesya didn’t want to be a single mom anymore. I don’t want to make her sound like a terrible person, but I still haven’t forgiven her for doing that to Yuri.”

He draws in a breath, and when he lets it out, it’s as if a flood of words come with it.

“Kids don’t understand why you do things, you know? If you tell them you’re leaving, they’ll think they’ve been abandoned. And if you always tell them that their dad doesn’t love them, they won’t be happy being left with a stranger that’s supposedly their dad. I had absolutely no experience with kids and she just dropped him on my doorstep, telling me she was moving abroad. Who _does_ that? He cried constantly for days and the only thing he ate was chips and ice cream, which I suppose I’m lucky he ate at all.”

It’s like a bucket of ice cold water has been dropped on Yuuri’s head. He would have never imagined – but Viktor keeps going, his voice monotone as if to keep all emotions out.

“I was a mess. We were working on a big production and I’d just become the principal danseur for the Bolshoi, it’s why I was in Moscow in the first place. I didn’t know she’d gone back to live there. And after three days of constant panic, Nikolai found us. I begged him to take Yuri… Now I’m glad he refused. Back then, I thought I was living in a nightmare.”

Viktor looks up, meeting his eyes. There’s something there that Yuuri couldn’t begin to understand, something vulnerable in the way his mouth trembles a little.

“I don’t think I can describe it to you,” he says, lowering his gaze again. “I don’t even want to think about it. If it was hell for me, what was it like for Yura? He tells me he can’t remember.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Yuuri whispers, fighting down tears that threaten to spill. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well.” Viktor blows air through his nose, his hand clenching in Yuuri’s hold. “I know what she was thinking. She was right to think I never would agree if she asked, but Yura was the one who got hurt. I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“I’ve told you before, I think you’re a great father.”

A small smile, at least.

“Thank you. It took me a lot longer to get there than it should.”

“But you got there. And Yuri loves you.”

Viktor’s lips part as if to disagree, but Yuuri shakes his head.  

“I know all too well what it’s like to blame yourself for things even though you did your best. We might not have spent a lot of time together yet, but I can at least tell you that much.”

“Alright,” Viktor says, and finally he relaxes a little. “It’s not all of it, I guess, but I’m glad you don’t think less of me for it.”

“I would never.”

Yuuri squeezes his hand, still swallowing around the lump in his throat. It takes a while, but eventually Viktor heaves a sigh, turning so that he’s facing Yuuri. He takes Yuuri’s other hand as well, gently holding them both, thumbs caressing his knuckles.

“I hope you know how much you mean to us,” he says, biting at his lips. “Yura was always unhappy with me until he discovered skating. It’s the one thing he loves more than anything else.”

He doesn’t know how to reply. He wants to say that it’s the other way around, that they both inspire him, that they supported him from the very beginning and made him think it was worth it. That they made him think there was a place for him in the spotlight, too.

“I tried very hard to ignore I was attracted to you, you know.”

“What?”

Another thing Yuuri hadn’t thought much about was if Viktor had liked him as long as he liked Viktor. He’d assumed the answer was a definite no.

“You know I always try to put Yura first, so I told myself it was all for his sake.” Viktor makes a face, tugging a little at Yuuri’s hands. “But over the years, I started liking you for personal reasons as well. How couldn’t I? It’s just that I promised myself I wouldn’t date anyone unless Yura was okay with it, and he’s never been. He’s… not so good with other people taking my attention away from him.”

“Oh.”

“So one part of it all is that I told myself I wouldn’t be in a relationship until he was old enough, you know, moving out and making a life of his own and stuff. I’ve actually never been in a relationship.”

Yuuri blinks at him in shock. Never? Sure, Yuuri’s never been in one, but he’s not exactly great boyfriend material. Viktor, on the other hand, is just amazing. Has he been rejecting people for Yuri’s sake?

Would he have rejected Yuuri, if Yuri was against it?

“Sorry, I’ll get to the point,” Viktor tells him, smiling apologetically. “I do want to sleep with you, and it’s true that I want everyone including you to know I’m capable of putting your skating first, but-“

He hesitates, and Yuuri feels like he’s sitting on pins and needles. He wants to know what’s wrong so badly so that he can fix it, so that he can reassure Viktor that it’s all fine and also silence the part of him that still feels rejected whenever Viktor pulls away from him.

“I guess I’m… stupidly worried about it.”

“Worried?”

He feels like he’s echoing Viktor too much, searching Viktor’s embarrassed face for any additional clues.

“I only ever slept with people,” Viktor mumbles, grimacing a little. “I don’t want this to be like that. It sounds really dumb when I say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

“It isn’t like that, is it?”

Viktor shakes his head slowly, lifting a hand to brush his thumb over Yuuri’s lower lip. It draws a shiver out of him, Viktor’s eyes hooded as he takes it in.

“No, of course not. I want you in every possible way.” Yuuri’s lips part when Viktor pushes his thumb into them, a small intake of breath that has Viktor’s gaze flutter downwards. “I’m trying to come to terms with being allowed to want you.”

“I hope you come to terms fast,” Yuuri says, and can’t even feel embarrassed when pretty laughter spills from Viktor’s mouth.

“Oh, I hope so too.”

He’s exhausted, limbs begging for sleep, but there’s something light and bubbly filling him to the brim when Viktor lifts one of his hands to his own mouth and presses a lingering kiss to the back of it.

“We should sleep,” he whispers, because if they don’t, Yuuri will attempt to help Viktor get over his hesitation right at this moment.

“I’m not very sleepy,” Viktor says, tugging him closer until Yuuri finds himself curled into Viktor’s arms. “I’d rather stay here with you.”

Pushing his face against Viktor’s shoulder, Yuuri tries to calm his wildly beating heart. He wishes, not for the first time, that they could spend a week or two on their own with no obligations forcing them to put their relationship second. Sharing your inner thoughts is a tiring form of intimacy that Yuuri might welcome, but he’d prefer a day off to let it all sink in.

“You could stay.” His hand finds the flat of Viktor’s stomach, feeling it move with every breath. “Just to sleep, I mean. If you want.”

He’s not ready to let go yet, drawn to Viktor’s warmth and scent for comfort. He wants to tell Viktor things, too; share with him the doubts that plague his mind sometimes, the desperate need for something to save him at the beginning of the season.

“Of course I want,” Viktor mumbles into his ear, and they reluctantly part to get ready for bed.

When they’re finally tucked underneath the covers, Viktor on his back and Yuuri on his side, there’s a bit of shuffling back and forth before they find a position comfortable for the both of them. He feels brave enough to place his hand above Viktor’s heart, following the steady rise and fall of his chest as they try to sleep. He’s not sure he’ll be able to. There’s a lot to take in, and Viktor’s body heat is a terrible distraction. There’s also the bubbling happiness inside his chest mixed with the relief that he didn’t actually do anything wrong, but overlaying all of it is a new sense of worry.

Viktor and Yuri always seemed so happy together, like the perfect little family. Of course, he’d known that Viktor was a single dad, but he’d never speculated on the details. It just proves how much he doesn’t know about Viktor, and how little life experience he has in comparison. He’d never thought of their age difference as something that mattered, either, but eight years is… not insignificant.

He sighs, snuggling a little closer to Viktor. If he starts thinking like that his anxiety will keep him up all night, and he doesn’t want Viktor to think that them sleeping together is a bad idea. For now, he supposes that all he can do is try to think a little less about himself and be more attuned to Viktor, to prove that he can be good for both him and Yuri.

If Viktor really is serious about this, Yuuri needs to be prepared for it. He can’t think in terms of _just until the final_. He believes that Viktor wouldn’t be doing this if Yuri wasn’t okay with it, which means that Yuuri has to be more conscious of that fact. Until now, he’s just been going along with it – not that it’s even been a week – but if Yuuri isn’t willing to think of this as a lifelong commitment he shouldn’t string them along selfishly. It’s not so much about being good enough as being _chosen_.

“I can hear you thinking,” Viktor mumbles, head turning to press a kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm…”

Yuuri hesitates, but then he hoists himself up on an elbow, cupping Viktor’s cheek. It’s too dark to see anything, but Viktor puts his hands on his waist, holding him steady. His heart may be pounding, and his thoughts may still be in disarray, but it’s not a hard decision to make.

“Viktor,” he says, encouraged by the light squeeze to his waist. “I’m serious about you, too. I’m just very distracted.”

A moment of silence, and then Viktor breaks out in stunned laughter, arms wrapping around his waist to hold him against his chest. Cheeks burning, Yuuri slumps against him, feeling the vibrations from Viktor’s quiet laughs through his body.

“I’ve noticed,” Viktor teases him when he’s finally done laughing, making Yuuri groan. “But it’s the same for me, you know, aside from all the running away.”

Viktor’s hands run up his back and Yuuri shivers, burying his face in Viktor’s shoulder. His fingers find purchase in the sheets, lungs straining to work as Viktor’s thumb gently rubs the back of his neck. It’s embarrassing how easily riled up he is, heat stirring in his lower belly. He can practically hear his heartbeat in his ears, too fast, hyperaware of every part of their bodies that touch.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he breathes, and Viktor stills. “Not unless you want to…”

“Oh.”

He goes back to simply hugging Yuuri’s waist, but even though Yuuri feels the beginnings of arousal like tingles through his body, it’s comfortable. It’s easy. Just the two of them, breathing together. He doesn’t mean to drift off, but all of a sudden it’s as if a week of tension catches up to him, limbs and eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He’s vaguely aware of Viktor’s mouth brushing against his hair, mumbled words that don’t seem to make sense in English, at least...

 

 

Next thing he knows, a heavy weight assaults him, sharp knees and elbows digging into him to the sound of complaints.

“Yurochka, it’s five am, please go back to sleep,” Viktor groans, even as Yuri burrows in between them.

Yuuri is only barely conscious as he’s forced to squish himself against the wall, his narrow bed not made for two adults, and certainly not two adults and an eleven-year-old between them. There’s something resembling a growl as Yuri twists and turns to make himself comfortable, pulling the blanket up higher. It’s way too warm, is all Yuuri can think, coughing when an elbow hits him right in the ribs.

“No sleepovers without me,” Yuri grumbles, though he pats Yuuri’s chest in apology.

There’s only one pillow, and Yuri tugs at it so that he shares with Yuuri, Viktor mumbling a protest before giving up.

“Just sleep,” he sighs, throwing his arm over both of them, and Yuuri-

Yuuri can’t help but smile until it hurts.

 

♡♡♡

 

**@phichitchu**

I just want you all to know that I called it before it was cool #viktuuri #bestwingmanever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you can all imagine what round 3 will be like... :3 I've been part of a telephone game for writers and artists, please check out my smutty oneshot for it if you haven't yet! It's called [Lipstick Lover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15541185) and features powerbottom Yuuri<3

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://fangirlandiknowit101.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/katsudonforever) where you can talk to me if you want!!


End file.
